


The Adventures of Augment Gothic

by Joe_Lawyer



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Enterprise, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dominance, F/M, Multi, Science Fiction, Sexuality, Submission, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 132,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28393161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joe_Lawyer/pseuds/Joe_Lawyer
Summary: A present-day Star Trek fan is forcibly thrust into that dimension and made anew as an Augment, a genetically engineered superman, on the whim of a mischievous god. Armed with knowledge of this dimension's past and future, he's determined to live well, have fun with alien women, and make it look easy. Elements of DS9/TNG/Voy/Ent. Originally co-written with GothicJedi666.
Relationships: OC/Kira Nerys/Jadzia Dax/Ro Laren
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to or part of Star Trek. This fan fiction was written purely for fun.

**Author’s Note:**

Welcome readers old and new to The Adventures of Augment Gothic!! This story represents a continuation of “Augment Gothic” a story I started and co-wrote with GothicJedi666 back in 2016 that ran 40 chapters, which is still up on his profile. Unfortunately, his desire to continue the story ran its full course, but he graciously agreed to let me carry the baton on my own for however long my muse lasts. I want to thank him once again for years of amazing storytelling and collaboration. I only hope I can continue to do this story justice on my own.

Now, with that out of the way, I will be revising and re-posting all 40 chapters of the original story. These will mostly be revisions and improvements as I’ve evolved and improved as a writer over the years. So, to my new readers, if you're truly impatient for more, feel free to go over there and read, but I think you'll get more out of this journey if you read here. Hopefully our faithful and loyal readers will go on that journey with us again and re-read the story. As for you new readers, welcome! It’s going to be an amazing journey.

**July 2020 Author’s Note:**

I’ve been amazed by the number of new readers who have found this story and started to really get into it. One such reader is [**at16908**](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/13190694/), who was inspired by the story. He reorganized a lot of the story and has written some really interesting new stuff fleshing out parts of the story that didn’t get as much time and attention as it really should have the first time around. He’s been given co-author credit on these updated chapters 1-4. While our collaboration didn’t work out in the end, I think these early chapters have been greatly improved by his help. Thank you, Alan!

**The Adventures of Augment Gothic**

**Prologue – The Long Sleep**

**Location Unknown**

I remembered having a conversation… or rather that I had had a conversation with someone. They were thanking me for something? Or rewarding me for something? I don’t recall the exact words or even who the conversation was with, only that I had agreed… to something…something life changing.

Then there was nothing… nothing for what I think was a long, long time… and suddenly there was sound! And light! Too much though!

I think I was awakened by a scream. A terrible scream that echoed in what felt like an upright coffin. I was trapped! Adrenaline pumped in my veins and I felt like I was on fire within. I began pounding on the coffin with my fists and knees, desperately trying to get out… Amazingly, the metal and plastic was actually warping from my blows!

The coffin lid began to move, while something with a monotone voice was saying something, but I couldn’t understand it. Too loud, too disorienting! I need to be free!

Something gave way, metal screeching, something breaking, a sound which echoed in the small upright coffin, and suddenly, whatever was holding the lid in place exploded away, and I heard what sounded like the lid hitting someone who let out a groan of agony. I fell to my knees and could only crawl my way out of the coffin – but there was too much sound, and light, and my body just wasn’t working right – being naked and cold certainly didn’t help. I could only whisper, “freedom” as I began to pass out, and I thought I glimpsed a gray statue, dressed in a purple unisuit of all things, walk towards me as if to offer its help, before I finally lost consciousness.

**XXXXX**

**Chapter 1 – An Introduction to Dimensional Mechanics or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the New Me**

**Location Unknown**

My mind felt fuzzy and I struggled to get my bearings. In fact, my body felt pain in a way that it hadn't ever before - it wasn't 'hurt' like I knew it, it was too dulled, like the distant half-remembered memory of pain, only even that wasn't quite what it was. Thankfully this aching echo was already starting to fade away.

"He's waking up," a woman's soft voice called out, but the voice was incredibly strange. It sounded far richer, more layered, more _nuanced_ , if I had to put a word to it, than I had ever heard before. If I had to describe it, it was like you had listened to your favorite song on a pair of cheap drug store headphones all your life, a thousand times over, and then suddenly you listened to that same song on a pair of extremely high-end noise canceling, studio grade headphones. Suddenly you were hearing depths and nuances in your favorite song that you never even knew were there!

I struggled to open my eyes as the dull pain completely vanished all of a sudden, like it had never been there at all. I tried to move, but my muscles just wouldn't obey the orders my brain was sending to my body. However, like the pain, my body's temporary paralysis soon ended and my body started to move the way I wished it to. Thankfully, whatever was wrong with me didn't appear to be permanent.

" _Where am I_?" I asked. Who said that?! Was that my voice?! Again, why did a voice sound like it was coming from concert grade speakers?!

My vision was still a bit blurry so I had to wait for it to clear up before I could see what was going on around me. As my vision improved it went way beyond what I remembered as normal. It was clarity like I had never experienced before. Just like with the sounds in the room, suddenly the world seemed brighter, colors richer and more vibrant. Focusing on any one spot felt like someone had put high grade binoculars over my eyes and auto adjusted the focus near instantly. I was seeing subtle color gradations in the carpet and a single strand of red hair lying on the ground 30 feet away. Shadowed corners and an unlit office that I was certain was too dark and too far away to see into were lit up to my eyes like someone had shone a spotlight on them.

_What the fuck was happening to me?!_

As my awareness of the people in the room returned, I realized a man and a woman were standing over me. They both wore ridiculous looking full body, skintight jumpsuits, under some sort of lab coat. Yet as silly as it seemed, there was something oddly familiar about the woman. I just couldn't remember why. I was also no longer naked, dressed in something like a hospital gown.

More people were speaking now, but I was unable to make it out as my ears seemed to be far more interested in their subvocal harmonics, or the way the room infinitesimally echoed, or the different electronic hums of the various bits of technology in the room. There was definitely something wrong with my hearing, or something so different as to _feel_ wrong. It was as if all my senses couldn't stay in focus for very long, or were focusing on all the wrong things, instead of the person actually speaking to me. Yet I knew this clarity and range was so much greater than it should have been.

The lights were too bright, my eyes stinging from the intensity of them, and the sounds were simply overwhelming. Then there were the smells – the room had the sterile scent of a hospital, but I could also smell the faint whiff of the woman’s perfume in the air, along with the unique scent markers that I would later classify as belonging to humans. I had to be suffering from some sort of sensory overload.

Was I on a boat?? The room felt like it was subtly moving in a way that I had never felt before.

I was still trying to get my bearings when I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. The man in front of me reached towards my neck and I saw that he had some sort of device in his hand. It didn't take a genius, or my new enhanced senses, to figure out that he was going to inject me with something. Since I didn't want that to happen my hand reached out faster than a snake striking and I gripped the man's wrist tightly, then with surprising strength I tightened my grip and forced the limb away from me. The man in the lab coat screamed as I felt bones breaking beneath the skin from the sheer strength of my new grip. Why did his bones break so easily?! I didn't mean to do that!

Now my heart was beating like crazy, adrenaline flowing, and I still had no idea where the fuck I was. All I knew was that I had to _escape_ from here because these doctors were obviously doing something to me. Had they changed me? Had they experimented on me? Where they the ones who had put me in that metal coffin?

With those frightening thoughts in mind I got up off the strange bed in one fast flowing movement, as if the rest of them were moving in slow motion, the people in the silly jumpsuits and lab coats all backing away from me like someone had hit slow motion on their video player. They were speaking again! I couldn't understand them!

Now I had an intense ringing in my ears. Only it wasn't a ringing noise, it was more like everything I was hearing had all become one loud, senseless din.

At this point I truly panicked and the only lucid thought in my mind was focused on escape. I headed for what looked like a door, but found no handle or doorknob or button that I recognized, like on an elevator. Figuring out these controls proved unnecessary as the door opened automatically as I approached, so I was able to race out into the empty, weirdly designed corridor. Things were still a little too bright here as well, but thankfully the noise was far more bearable now that no one was talking. This meant that I could finally hear the beating of my own heart and my frantic breathing, which I tried to steady with great effort.

"rIQ SoH!" Someone yelled, my ears now ringing again from the volume.

I looked towards the source of the voice to see three honest-to-God Klingon cosplayers, which gave me pause at the sheer absurdity of the sight. Was I being experimented on by scientists or was I at a Comic-Con? They were wearing what looked like authentic armor and weapon designs from the shows, but they weren't holding their swords and guns at the moment. Somehow, though, they looked ready to instantly make use of them, like they genuinely knew how to handle weapons. They must be quite passionate about their in-costume acting or were former military like I was.

"No way," I whispered, as my vision allowed me to see that these guys were not wearing any make up or face prosthetics, nor were the materials they were wearing the cheap imitation stuff you'd see in most sci-fi costumes. The level of detail and the quality of the material was just too extreme. But that couldn't possibly be right. They even somehow gave off the scent of predators, like they couldn’t wait to hunt worthy prey. How did I even know that?

Either I had gone totally crazy or I'd been abducted by some really, really, _really_ hardcore cosplayers who had cut no corners and spent a shit ton of money on their cosplay… and plastic surgery? That last bit was a little crazy, highly unlikely, but not totally impossible. A less likely explanation was that I'd somehow been brought onboard the U.S.S _Enterprise_ , straight out of Star Trek: The Next Generation tv show for the amusement of some Random Omnipotent Being and had just escaped the ship’s sickbay and these fuckers were genuine Klingons. That was batshit crazy, though, right? Full disclosure, I had a small nerdgasm at the thought. Kind of like how you can get a burst of excitement at the idea of winning the big jackpot after you bought a lottery ticket; no one really thinks it likely they’ll win, though. I was a huge fan of all the Star Trek television series, well, mostly. I had never quite gotten into the Original - I was born in the 80’s, so TNG was my introduction to the universe.

"ghob'e' bImatlhba' jISaHchugh," another said.

I had no idea what the hell they were saying. While I was, admittedly, a big fan of Star Trek, I was not so big a fan that I had taken the time to learn a made-up fictional language like some did. Not that it really mattered, if these were real Klingons, then they most likely wanted to fight. If they were just guys in makeup, yeah, then I still didn't want them anywhere near me.

"maHvaD ghu'vam SoH QaH," the third said.

One of the real(?) Klingons stepped forward and out of shock or surprise or terror at the implications that this was all real, I punched the alien right in his face! It was hard to tell who had been hurt more by the punch given the dude's hard cranial ridges, so I decided then and there not to hit any more of them in the face barehanded. With their cranial ridges these guys had very thick skulls and very sharp teeth.

Kicking the next one in the gut though, well, that worked much better. The next crinkle headed fucker to come near me flew back, bounced off a bulkhead(?) and landed on his stomach after falling hard to the floor.

"Bunch of weaklings," I snorted. These space Viking rejects were what were hyped-up as some of the most dangerous enemies the Federation ever faced?

The smallest of the three so called warriors came at me far more cautiously than the others, now that I had proven to somehow be much stronger and faster than I looked. He (assuming it was a man under all that make up, or whatever he was - I was still struggling with the idea) used some sort of fancy fighting move, not that it mattered as his movements looked painfully slow to me and speed was king. I just took hold of one his arms that he had tried to strike me with, pulled down hard and his hairy chin met my rising knee. Then I pushed him back with what I thought was only medium strength.

That alien, assuming he actually was one, left the ground like he had been shot from a cannon and hit the wall with the back of its head, before landing hard on the floor. Then the first one, who I had only punched earlier, tried to tackle me. That was a mistake as these guys were not as fast on their feet as me and he just ended up meeting the wall after I sidestepped rather neatly. How was I doing this?!

Now the second cosplayer/alien was picking himself up off the ground, but he didn't get very far as I kicked him in the stomach while he was still on his hands and knees. To my amazement he didn't just collapse to the ground. My move actually lifted him up several feet in the air, and when he landed again he was on his back. How on Earth was I so strong now?!

"ghaHvaD bach!" one of them then shouted in anger, though it didn't seem directed at me.

I didn't understand that one either, however I figured it out when I turned to see a couple of gold uniformed Starfleet officers with what looked like phasers straight from the Star Trek: The Next Generation props department. Which turned out to be very real phasers because a second later a crimson ruby beam of directed energy hit me and the whole universe faded away into nothingness.

The beam and its path, while faster than the Klingons, had still been discernable to me and was something I probably could have gotten out of the way of. I think I was mostly just shocked at the realization that this was seriously all real that I froze up like I did. The other stuff you could maybe explain away. It’d be hard, but it was possible. A working energy weapon, though? Yeah, that one convinced me.

While the beams made me feel sleepy, I think I could have powered through the stun effect. Ultimately, I think it was the sensory overload, coupled with several more shots, that finally sent me into the blissful silence of unconsciousness…

XXXXX

**Sick Bay. U.S.S. _Enterprise._**

I regained consciousness slowly, once again lying on some kind of advanced diagnostic bed. I kept my eyes shut and listened closely to my surroundings. I could tell that I wasn’t alone in the room, the sound of people breathing in mostly static positions indicated that I was being guarded. Both were human, I think, men, judging by the smell of their cologne and anti-perspirant deodorant. This whole increased sense of smell thing was still new to me. The faint smell of a flowery perfume indicated that at least one woman was around here somewhere, assuming that held true to this time. If I was in the TNG universe then that woman was probably Dr. Beverly Crusher, the ship’s Chief Medical Officer.

The sound of voices in a nearby room (Dr. Crusher’s office I later learned) were just discernable and coming from the screen on one of the walls as the good doctor was telecommunicating into the _Enterprise’s_ conference room. There was apparently an infamous meeting of the ship’s senior officers in progress:

"I have spoken to our Klingon passengers," Lieutenant Worf, the _Enterprise’s_ Chief of Security, informed everyone gathered in the room. "They claim that they saw our 'guest' leaving sickbay at a run, half-naked, looking panicked, and were attempting to return him to Doctor Crusher's care only for him to attack them mercilessly. They were unprepared for such a savage and powerful foe."

"How was he able to defeat the Klingons?" Lt. Commander Deanna Troi, the ship’s counselor, asked the room, sounding confused. “I know that humans from the 20th and 21st century were more accepting of violence then we are, but he had only just woken up after spending centuries in cryostasis according to the records found on Kivas Fajo’s ship. He shouldn't have been able to get up from his biobed, much less start and win a fight with three Klingon warriors," Troi continued.

“Given that Klingons are both stronger and far more durable than human beings, Counselor, your confusion is justified. It does seem unlikely that any human could defeat three Klingons, yet that is exactly what happened. Humans have defeated Klingon warriors in battle, of course, but three-to-one, unarmed, after a long period of cryostasis, were very heavy odds to overcome. Even more so for someone who had _just_ stumbled out of sickbay, though the man had broken one of the nurse’s wrists moments after waking up,” Worf said.

"I can answer your question, Deanna. He's an _Augment_ , or at least that’s the best term available to describe him, even if it doesn’t fit exactly," Commander Beverly Crusher and Chief Medical Officer, informed the senior officers to the shock of them all and causing a deafening silence to descend on the room.

“An Augment, Doctor? Are you certain?” Picard asked quietly, his eyes focused intently on the Doctor. A bit of fear detectable in his voice.

"The tests I ran have confirmed it. Our guest has undergone a rather amazing amount of successful genetic resequencing, even what might be considered genetic sculpting. Of course, such things are illegal today, but from a purely medical perspective, you can’t help but be in awe of it. It’s a work of art, the masterwork of a geneticist far more skilled than anyone alive today, or perhaps using technology and techniques beyond our current understanding,” the Doctor answered quietly, obviously deep in thought, a level of awe in her voice.

“I don’t understand, Doctor. While exceedingly rare, there are known Augments today, many of which have been institutionalized and their parents imprisoned for their crimes,” Picard said.

“Those Augments are nothing like the man in my sickbay. In each of those cases, there were a few specific genetic enhancements made. You’d have to go back to the era of Khan, during the Eugenics Wars on Earth, to find genetic enhancements this comprehensive. _Everything_ has been enhanced, making him as different from regular humans as we are from monkeys, yet he’s still human! He’s not so different that he would be unable to have children with humans. In fact, his physiology and DNA are so robust I genuinely don’t think he’d struggle with impregnating virtually any but the most extreme outlier examples of the humanoid races the Federation has encountered,” the Doctor explained.

“If he’s as different from us as monkeys are to humans, then how can he even be considered human any longer, Doctor?” Picard asked.

“Captain, our guest in sickbay might be the future of the human form, if we were extraordinarily lucky as a race, after hundreds of thousands of years of hard evolution perhaps. What's very strange is that as far as I can tell he was already an adult when the alterations were made, which makes him quite different from the Augments of Khan's era, as they were _born_ as Augments, or in some very rare cases, modified as extremely young children after careful selective breeding from the strongest of parents."

“That is indeed strange, but it at least explains how this centuries-old human could have defeated three Klingon warriors,” Worf intoned, seemingly satisfied that Klingon physical supremacy wasn’t at threat in the face of some human _mutant_.

"Do we have his DNA on file?" Captain Jean-Luc Picard asked the room. "Or any other way to confirm his identity?"

"No, sir,” Lt. Commander Data, the Android and Operations Officer, replied. “I took the liberty of checking the records that remain from that era," the android answered. "There was no match with the databases that survived the wars of that time. Unfortunately, the nuclear strikes during World War III destroyed many of the archives from that time. As such we have no way of ascertaining his identity, or confirming that he was even on Earth during the Eugenics Wars. Given Doctor Crusher's unusual findings with regards to the genetic engineering he's had, it is entirely possible that he is the result of later experimentation or more advanced genetic engineering, possibly by a more advanced alien race."

Captain Picard reflected on that for several long moments. “Without proof that our 'guest' was one of the Augment tyrants who had been involved in the Eugenics Wars, I am not willing to confine the man to the brig. Augments can be extremely dangerous, as this one had handily proven already, but his actions can be excused due to extreme disorientation rather than any sort of malice, after all, he's been 'asleep' for more than three hundred years and then was woken up in a completely unknown and alien environment. That was more than enough justification for someone to react with violence. Our 'guest' may have truly believed that he was in mortal peril. That should not be held against him, Augment or not.”

"Dr. Crusher, is he ready to be released from sickbay?" Captain Picard asked.

"Yes, Captain, he is already fully recovered. His rate of recovery is simply miraculous. I'd have said that it was impossible for a human to have recovered so quickly from 300 years in cryostasis if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but a full Augment's enhanced physiology is a very poorly understood thing, especially this one. I would study it further, if he’d let me, but I'd still prefer to get him out of sickbay as soon as possible," Beverly answered honestly. "My staff are afraid of him."

“Not surprising, I suppose, given the circumstances,” said Commander William “Will” T. Riker, First Officer. "What should we do?"

There was a pause as Picard gave it some thought for several silent moments.

"Confine him to quarters for now," the Captain decided. "And keep a guard on his door at all times. If he's anything like Khan then he will soon make a move to take over the ship, so we must be prepared. If he is different, then I hope he will cooperate once he has had time to adjust to our time and we can take things from there. Perhaps if we can build some sort of trust between us, he will simply tell us what we wish to know."

At this point Riker had something to add.

"There are historical accounts that state that Khan-era Augments can have close to five times normal human strength and speed," the second in command related. "If that's even remotely true, then I am concerned our normal security personnel might not be up to the task of securing him."

“We should assign Vulcan security officers to the detail,” advised Worf. “They are about three times stronger than baseline humans on average. While they still wouldn't be a match for a Khan-era Augment, they might be strong enough to slow him down long enough for someone else to stun him with a phaser, or for force fields to trap him. Our guest can be stunned, that much we’ve seen, but now that he has had time to recover from stasis, at least physically, a single officer with a phaser might not be enough.”

“Using forcefields, even on standby, will require power to be diverted to a lot of emitters. I suggest keeping him moving upon a set path, that way we can make sure he will get to his quarters without escaping,” said Lt. Commander Geordi La Forge, the Chief Engineer. “I would also recommend keeping a transporter-lock on his life signs as a backup measure. If necessary, we can beam him directly to the brig.”

"Agreed," said Captain Picard. "Once our guest is inside his assigned quarters I want at least two security personnel outside his door at all times, and they are to have two more with them nearby. Ensure force fields on that deck are ready to be activated at a moment's notice to contain him if necessary."

"Commander Data, I'd like you to escort our 'guest' from sick bay to his quarters," Picard ordered. "Should he react badly while being moved from sick bay you should be able to restrain him without causing any harm. Answer any of his questions, within reason; try to build a relationship with the man if you can."

"I think it would be best for me to speak with him as soon as possible," Deanna Troi advised her commanding officer. "He might not be talking yet, but I should still be able to sense his emotions, so I might be able to learn something about him and his intentions."

"I agree, Counselor,” said Picard reluctantly. “But please, proceed with the utmost caution – you may be walking right into a lion’s den. That said, your empathic abilities might be the edge needed to get through to him and find his measure."

"Now let’s move on to other matters."

While the crew of the _Enterprise_ got the most interesting missions in the fleet, the flagship was still part of Starfleet, which meant that they ended up doing plenty of routine mission types, just like every other ship. There were also always other onboard issues to deal with, especially on a ship carrying over a thousand souls, many of which were civilians, so the meeting carried on like normal. It was a little boring to listen to, something that obviously would never have been seen or heard on TV due to its dull nature… but also somehow strangely fascinating, like taking a peek behind the curtain. It was a stark reminder that this was a fully-fledged universe, with all that that entails. I couldn’t help wondering where I was going from here, but one thing I knew for certain: one day I would have a starship of my own, getting into adventures and discovering new places and people in the final frontier.

Eventually, the meeting ended and I could hear Dr. Crusher leave her office. As she turned the corner into the main room, I quickly sat up, which was apparently too quickly for my guards’ tastes as they instantly tensed up and put their hands on their phasers, obviously a bit jumpy and ready to use their sidearms.

Dr. Crusher appeared from her office and approached me, giving me my first good look at her. What I saw had me momentarily shocked - I had looked up fully expecting to see the actress Gates McFadden, just as I’d seen on the show, instead I found a woman that looked more like a green-eyed Christina Hendricks. At least they both had red hair… That extraordinary set of tits certainly hadn’t been there on Gates McFadden, though. If someone had searched for what a MILF was in the dictionary, her picture would be right next to it. I don’t know how a woman could look incredibly sexy in the TNG-era doctor’s uniform (full body pajamas with a coat), but damn if she didn’t pull it off.

This new mind of mine meant I had quite a bit of relative time to think on what the fuck was going on -- it was like time dilation for thoughts. Instead of looking like Gates McFadden, why did she look like an actress from Mad Men fame, one that I had always thought was stupidly sexy and had once had a sex dream about? This wreaked of shenanigans, manipulation of some sort, but who the fuck had that kind of _power_? The answer came surprisingly fast -- possibly the same being who could transplant me into the dimension of one of my favorite science fiction franchises.

“Good, you’re awake.”

“What’s up, Doc?” I managed to say, trying to pass off my surprise at her appearance as someone in shock.

“How did you…? Oh, the coat.” She unconsciously smoothed down the aforementioned coat, which worked to accidentally emphasize her _extremely_ generous bust, and what a set of breasts they were. I felt my mouth water and had a vivid image of me sucking on her milky-white tits while I was balls deep inside her.

“May I ask your name?” She said, getting my attention back.

Oh, right, nobody here knew who I was. For a moment I was tempted to use my birth name, but something held me back. I just didn’t feel like that person anymore and the thought occurred to me that perhaps some things should remain firmly in the past.

“I’m… not sure,” I said, pausing for a moment. “I’m having some memory trouble at the moment and I can’t really remember much at all from before I woke up here.”

“That’s alright,” Dr. Crusher said in a soothing tone. “Please brace yourself, but I have some news that you may find both disturbing and hard to accept. You’ve been asleep in a cryopod for a very long time – three centuries. It is very common for people who spend a long time in cryosleep to have some lapses in memory – they usually return in time though. My name is Beverly Crusher. I am a doctor and the Chief Medical Officer on the starship _Enterprise_ of the United Federation of Planets.”

She paused to give me a moment to accept this information, not knowing that my visible shock was partly because of the confirmation, confirmation of what had already started to become painfully obvious to me, though still something I didn’t know what to think about or understand was even in possible.

_I was in Star Trek._

Seeing the shock she had expected, she then proceeded to give me the speech about how mankind had grown to be more civilized and now worked to better themselves. It was a good speech, probably better and more comprehensive than the one I’d seen in the show when some humans from the past showed up in the 24th century. I took it with a grain of salt considering I had seen every episode of four different Star Trek series. As much as I loved Star Trek, the one thing I’ve learned about humanity is that it’s easy to be civilized when you’re living in a post scarcity utopia, where most basic wants are freely provided for. From the various wars and battles I’d seen in those series, modern humanity could still descend into savagery if they were forced into a corner, the lizard part of the brain taking over.

Dr. Crusher continued, taking my shocked and thoughtful silence as expected given the circumstances, “Medical technology has come a long way since the 21st century and it allows us to do thorough diagnostic scans of your body without any harm to you. These scans revealed that you have had extensive genetic enhancements to every part of your body. You’re what we call an Augment. You are lucky in that these changes appear to have been done successfully – you are not just in excellent health, you are far beyond that.”

She once again paused to give me a moment to absorb this information, then walked over to pick up the 24th century equivalent of a tablet computer and handed it to me.

“I know this is a lot of information to take in, and you may need time to come to terms with all that’s happened. On this computer device, called a PADD, is a list of all the changes that have been detected, including my impressions of the techniques used and the implications for you in the short- to mid- to long-term. If you have any questions, I will help to the best of my ability. In the meantime, you have been assigned some quarters while onboard and will be given a chance to get some rest after your trying day. The ship’s counselor, Deanna Troi, has asked to see you later to make sure you have an easier transition into life in the 24th century. While not strictly required, I highly recommend you do so. Do you have any questions for me?”

“I’m not even sure where to begin, Doctor. I think I need more time to take this all in and review the information on this device. Will I have access to something like an encyclopedia later…?” I asked with a pained expression of my face. I wasn’t entirely pretending – I was in a state of shock, but my new body wasn’t letting me sink into it, which I was appreciating.

“Of course, that’s perfectly understandable, take all the time you need,” Dr. Crusher offered, trying to comfort someone she saw was possibly in distress. “Lt. Commander Data has volunteered to bring you to your quarters and explain how to use some of these things that may be strange to you, as well as give you limited computer access. He’ll answer any of your questions. I’ll call him in a moment – in the meantime, why don’t you change out of that gown and into some normal clothing. I’ve replicated some basic items and left them folded on the shelf. Let me activate the privacy curtain and…”

While she spoke, I had stood up and turned toward the shelf. Like all hospital gowns, the thing, of course, opened up in the back, resulting in me mooning the famously stoic doctor when I turned. I didn’t really think much of it at first, but as soon as I slipped off the gown, I detected a new scent in the room, something that hadn’t been there before. If I had to describe it, I’d say…sweet and tangy. From her heightened heartbeat and the flush on her cheeks when I glanced behind me, I was relatively sure now that this smell was arousal. I hadn’t had much of a chance to take a hard look at my improved body, but whatever it looked like now apparently got Crusher’s juices flowing. I certainly hadn’t been a cave troll before, but the ladies weren’t exactly throwing themselves at me.

I decided to have a little fun and made sure to turn just enough while dressing to give her a better view. Unfortunately, the clothing was a unitard jumpsuit, which I thought made people look like adults wearing onesie pajamas – but I think I somehow made it work. While getting dressed, I almost ripped the fabric of the pants part in half, which was strange since I wasn’t really pulling all that hard. It was then that I realized how and why I had injured that nurse when I first woke up in sick bay. From what the Doctor had said, I was much stronger and faster than I had been before and lacked the motor control one gradually learns during life to control their strength. My mind still hadn’t gotten used to this new body, though thankfully that hadn’t meant I was tripping over my own feet or was unable to stand at all. With extreme care, I finished pulling on the shirt part.

Now fully dressed, I turned around to see a blushing Dr. Crusher with a slightly glazed look on her face, her tongue darting out to subtly lick her lips. I was a bit tempted to see what I could get away with, but I needed a little time to get used to this new world and to this new body.

“Okay, Doc, I’m good to go.”

Dr. Crusher had a little trouble meeting my eyes, with them being alternately focused on how my defined chest and crotch looked in this skintight bullshit clothing. For a fleeting moment I wondered if this was what large-breasted women often had to deal with when meeting men who couldn’t keep their eyes on their faces. Fortunately, the doc snapped out of it pretty quick.

“Ye… yes. Of course. Please wait a moment while I contact Commander Data.”

Dr. Crusher stepped away and then almost ran to her office. The two Vulcan guards looked a bit surprised at the doctor’s behavior, if their raised eyebrow was any indication, but their demeanor remained stoic. We stood around looking at one another until Data appeared.

The first thing you notice about Androids is that no matter how life-like they appear on the outside, they are somehow missing certain things, or do things or don’t do things that make them stand out from biological people. For example, most biological organisms are incapable of standing perfectly still, they fidget, they shift their weight, their attention wanders, they have nervous ticks of some sort - Androids do not. They are like statues, and even their simulated breathing, eye blinks, and feigned body ticks have a machine-like rhythm and precision to them that can be subconsciously noticed.

My enhanced senses could also detect no heartbeat from it (simulated or otherwise) or unique natural scent, which I’ve found could be useful in identifying species and emotional state. This all made sense, yet I was left with an impression of “the uncanny valley.” Even though Data was modeled on a real human being, his creator, Dr. Noonien Soong (who in this universe did look almost exactly like Brent Spiner) it still made the subtle differences stand out, as did the gray skin and yellow eyes.

Data dismissed the guards and turned toward me.

“Hello, sir. I am Lt. Commander Data,” he introduced. “I am here to escort you to the quarters you’ve been assigned while onboard. Please follow me.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and began to leave sick bay. I picked up the PADD and started following him, but stopped by the door.

“One moment, please,” I said, and turned back towards the doctor’s office. As I approached the standard split door, they opened automatically and revealed Dr. Crusher sitting at her desk. She looked up when I entered.

“Well, I’m off,” I said, putting on my most charming smile. “Thank you for all your help during my recovery. Before I go, could you also please give the guy I hurt my sincere apologies. I really didn’t mean to hurt him. I was scared and I didn’t know that I was stronger than before. I couldn’t even put on my clothes just now without damaging it.”

“Yes, of course,” Crusher said, a surprised look on her face. I guess she thought an Augment wouldn’t care about the little people, but I always made it a point to take responsibility for my fuck-ups. “I’ll be sure to let him know.”

“See you around, Doc.”

I turned around with a backwards wave, and left to join the waiting Data. We soon stepped out into the corridor. “Ok, I’m ready.”

Data and I began to walk through the _Enterprise’s_ corridors, which were identical to the ones on the show, a mix of gray panels, lights, and pastel colors. I remembered reading an article once that said the colors had been specifically chosen by the set designers, that they were supposed to have a positive effect on the crew’s emotional well-being, which was important considering the galaxy-class (which the _Enterprise_ was) had been designed for deep space missions where it would be 5-10 years away from Federation space at maximum warp. That, of course, had never really happened – possibly because Starfleet wanted its flagship close by, the ship was a potent show of force and the Federation’s power, etc. I’m not sure how the color scheme could possibly work in the ‘real-world’, on a ship with dozens of different species and sensibilities, and not just humans, but it wasn’t really worth looking into.

We walked in silence; apparently Data wasn’t one for small talk and honestly, I wasn’t really in the mood – I was too busy taking everything in and trying to spot differences. While Crusher was obviously different, the ship itself looked exactly like it did on the show. Of course, the scale felt different, as these weren’t the sets of a television show where they had only built a few dozen feet of corridor to save money. I did notice that every time I passed a crewmember or civilian, especially if they were human (of which there were a lot), they avoided me like I had the plague or something. I guess the story of my escape from sick bay and possibly the fact that I was considered an Augment, had spread throughout the ship and I would be getting the cold shoulder for a while. Ah well.

I followed Data to a turbolift (essentially an advanced elevator that moves up, down, forward, back, etc.) and we entered. Data spoke aloud, “Deck 7” and the turbolift moved accordingly, just like in the show. The turbolift must have had some sort of inertial compensator built in since I only felt the smallest amount of movement and I was sure that without my enhanced senses I probably wouldn’t have even felt that. We arrived on the correct deck, the doors opened and we stepped out. After another few minutes of walking, we finally arrived at the place I would be calling home for the near future…

**XXXXX**

**Guest Quarters. U.S.S. _Enterprise_.**

"These will be your quarters while onboard," Data said. "If they are not to your liking then alternative accommodations can be found," he offered, misinterpreting my awe at such nice quarters being given to me.

Either these were the VIP quarters meant for visiting ambassadors or the standard of living had greatly improved since the 21st century. However, I didn't dwell on that for long as that was when I noticed the windows and the startling view of space that they offered.

"Wow, I really am in space," I muttered.

And since we weren't orbiting the Earth that meant I was further out into the universe than anyone from my world and time had ever been.

"Were you not told this earlier?" Data asked me, in a confused tone.

I'd not been, not really, but I had figured it out once I realized I was on the _Enterprise_. It was just that being told something and _seeing something_ were two very different things.

"In fact, you were discovered in space," I was told. "By a Kivas Fajo. He was a Zibalian trader."

In addition to all my senses being super charged, I seemed to be thinking very fast and cleverly these days as well. I picked up on the implications of the word 'was' instantly.

"What happened to him?" I asked.

The name sounded very familiar, and I could almost feel my brain kick into high gear trying to place it. My new thoughts just felt _faster_ , I could remember everything that had happened to me since I had woken up on the _Enterprise_ in exquisite detail, ideas constantly coming to me now, connections quickly made and analyzed and cross referenced, which I guess meant that I was more creative and intuitive now. But, the memories from my past, before waking up in this time and place, somehow lacked that clarity and it was taking me some time to place who Kivas Fajo was. The difference between my old and new thought process was incredibly strange and would take time to integrate.

"When you broke out of your cryopod, the heavy lid to your pod was launched at an extreme velocity and struck him," Data informed me without emotion or accusation, practically in a monotone voice - like he was talking about the weather. “His death was very quick and he did not suffer. Please do not feel any guilt over the matter - your actions assisted me in escaping from imprisonment and preventing the harm of other innocents. I thank you.”

I'd never killed anyone before, at least not as far as I knew. Oddly enough, I wasn’t really bothered by Fajo’s death. At first, a part of me had begun screaming that I should feel guilty, that I had caused the death of someone, but it was more like an ingrained response, like a memory of what was a _normal_ reaction. I didn’t feel any guilt for his death or even much sadness. It was surprisingly hard to put into words. The more I thought about it, though, the more the name started to sound familiar and I began to recall an episode of TNG where something like these events had occurred.

In the events of that episode, ‘The Most Toys’, a trader, Kivas Fajo, had poisoned a colony so that he could arrange what looked like the death of Data in order to add him to his collection of rare items and beings, which I and my cryopod was apparently a part of. Data had decided to rebel in a passive-aggressive way, acting like a statue or mannequin, which greatly embarrassed Fajo before a fellow collector of his when he tried to showcase the crown jewel of his collection, the only known sentient android in existence. Without any leverage, as he couldn’t really hurt Data directly, Fajo threatened to kill his longtime aide Varria (she and Data has become friendly during his captivity) if Data didn’t cooperate. Varria, quite rightly, had been furious at this and had decided to help Data escape, and had arranged for my cryopod to revive me in an effort to cause a distraction. While Data had managed to activate the escape shuttle, Varria had been caught just before she could join him – the distraction not working as my cryopod had malfunctioned and didn’t open at the right moment. Fajo decided to use one of his rare weapons, the Varon-T disrupter to kill her (a weapon banned in the Federation as it was ‘a particularly vicious way to die’), by disintegrating her from the inside out. It was Varria’s horrible screams that I mostly heard when I first awoke. The groan I had heard when the shell of the cryopod had hit something was Fajo’s last gasp of life.

Obviously, the canon episode hadn’t ended that way originally. Fajo’s death was a big change to its ending. Originally, Fajo had killed Varria and dropped the disruptor. Data had picked up the weapon and pointed it at Fajo, who while trying to regain control of the situation, threatened to continue harming innocents until Data obeyed. It was then that Data had chosen to fire the weapon upon someone who was unarmed, but still dangerous – a pretty important evolution for the character. Data’s conscience was luckily spared, because at the last minute (as was so often the case in TNG), the _Enterprise_ had appeared and transported Data mid-shot, preventing the disruptor beam from hitting Fajo. Fajo would later be imprisoned for his crimes and lose all of his many treasures, but I’m not sure that was really enough punishment for someone like him. While I somewhat regretted Data’s loss of character growth, I think letting him keep some of his innocence for a bit longer wasn’t a terrible trade in the end.

Why should I feel any guilt about inadvertently killing a loathsome piece of shit who, if he hadn’t been caught, would have continued to hurt innocents to get the rare and unique things he wanted? My sympathies would be better spent on Varria and the ill colonists whose lives had been terribly disrupted by all this.

Though I still didn’t feel guilty, part of me recognized how strange these thoughts were for me. Being an Augment obviously came with far more profound changes than increased strength, agility, and being generally smarter.

"Am I in any sort of legal trouble for that?" I asked, after deciding to reflect more later on how I was different, once Data was actually gone.

Data shook his head.

"Given the effects of your time in stasis and the trajectory of the cryopod shell that struck Kivas Fajo was inadvertent, the captain has ruled that it was an accident, caused by extreme duress," the robot guy answered me.

That was a weight off my shoulders. While I was not bothered by my role in Fajo’s death, I had been unsure whether or not the Federation would use this opportunity to imprison a newly appeared Augment before they could become truly dangerous. I was glad they hadn’t. There was a wide-open galaxy full of adventure out there just waiting for me, allowing me to live out the dreams of millions and millions of Star Trek fans. My new mind was racing, thinking about the many possibilities and opportunities my future knowledge presented.

"Okay, so you better show me what's what in this place," I said.

Data moved towards a door and gestured.

"This is the bathroom," he informed me, "and there is a bedroom through this other door."

Hopefully, operating a toilet hadn't changed all that much in my time in cryosleep, otherwise I might end up truly humiliating myself. Thankfully, physiology still influenced design and function and the basics of the human body hadn't really changed in 300 years.

"This is the replicator," Data then said, pointing to an open cavity along one wall.

Of course, I knew exactly what one of those was, all fans of the show did and wished they had access to one, but since I didn't want anyone else to know how much I knew about this time I feigned total ignorance on the matter.

"What is a replicator?" I needlessly asked.

Data soon gave me an answer, after a momentary pause.

"In very simple terms, it creates things, by converting energy into matter," I was informed after a brief pause, Data obviously choosing to seriously dumb it down so that I had any hope of understanding his answer. "In-quarter replicators are normally used to provide food and clothing only. There are safeguards to prevent the replication of any dangerous materials, weapons or devices."

Well, there were safeguards on _this_ replicator, a replicator on a Starfleet vessel, but if I bought one of my own, there likely wouldn't be any such safeguards, or at least any that couldn’t be overridden. Fans of the shows had long geeked out on how useful replicators were and how horribly underutilized they were in the shows. No, I wouldn't be able to make weapons on this replicator. I imagined that with some effort and creativity on my part I could replicate bits and pieces to assemble some sort of killing tool. However, I also figured that someone on the ship, likely Mr. Worf, would be keeping a very close eye on everything I replicated. A steak knife would likely be the upper limit of what I could replicate.

"How does it work?" I asked next.

The layout looked very confusing, with seemingly no labeling on the buttons themselves. This actually matched the shows, but most fans just assumed the props department was trying to keep from having to actually create computer displays specific to what was going on in the episode to save money, but here it was. In the 80s and 90s when most of the series were on the air computer technology was not advanced enough to actually have real, working displays like seen on the shows, at least without the bulky monitors to go with it. Humans weren't using computers as I knew them any longer, it all looked like fancy touch screen tech, and the symbols ultimately meant nothing to me. I suppose you just got used to it and figured it out after a while.

"It uses transporter technology to reconfigure matter on the quantum level-" Data started to explain.

With a gesture I stopped him.

"I mean how do I use it or tell it what I want?" I clarified.

The android was not offended by my interruption. That'd be useful to exploit as I figured out this new time.

"Simply tell it what you want, verbally, as specifically as possible. If the replicator pattern is in our database, it can be made. Unless specified, some Starfleet default selections will be used for ease of ordering, like the size and style of a cup, if a beverage is ordered," Data explained. "Would you care for something to drink?"

I thought about that for a moment.

"Sure, I'll have some tea, earl grey, hot," I ordered with a small smirk. My inner geek was having a laugh at using Picard's standard order from the show!

It seemed appropriate, and the robot man didn't find it odd that I had ordered exactly what the captain drank so often.

"Excellent. Computer," Data said, "one cup of Earl Grey Tea, hot."

As if by magic a steaming cup appeared in the replicator.

“Since you did not specify sugar or cream to be added, the computer did not add any to the tea. The modifier ‘hot’, to denote the temperature of the tea replicated, was selected from a range pre-designated as normal and safe for human consumption, which the computer considers you to be,” Data explained. “When you are done with your tea, simply return it to the replicator and tell the computer to ‘recycle’ or ‘reclaim’ or similar language to that effect. Any matter produced by the replicator can be recycled in order to minimize energy usage.”

"Do you still have TV?" Was my next question. "Or even just a library? I have some catching up to do."

The machine man then directed me to a screen set up on a desk in the room that could be used to display both video and the written word, it could also be used for internal and external communication. It looked kind of like a thick laptop in form, which rather surprised me. In 2016 we had laptops that were smaller than this. I knew that they had hologram technology, where were the holographic screens and controls? This was something to think about. There might be opportunities there, but it would require more thought and a whole lot more resources than I currently had.

Luckily, this computer could be controlled verbally, because I really did not know how to use it at the moment. Until I became a lot more familiar with this time's technology, verbal commands to the computer would be a lifesaver.

"Television, as you knew it, does not strictly exist in this time, though news broadcasts do exist as well as recordings of live artistic performances. You have access to the entire Federation public database and infonet from here," I was told. "The only information off limits to you is that which is protected by our security programs, due to restriction or classification."

While it might be cool to find out how to fire the ship's photon torpedoes, I doubted that I'd even understand the public technical files that would explain their workings due to all the technobabble involved. Besides, I had a few centuries of history and innovation to catch up on before I got to today's sciences.

"Thank you, Data," I said. "I can take it from here."

“Of course,” said Data. “Before I leave, the captain has requested that you stay in your quarters while your status is being investigated. You are not a prisoner, but for your safety and that of others, you will be escorted to and from your quarters at all times, should you need to leave them. If you encounter any difficulty, there are several security personnel outside your door who will assist you. I hope your stay on the _Enterprise_ will be a pleasant one.”

“Thank you, Data. You’ve been extremely helpful.”

Once the android had gone, I wondered for a moment if I should have acted offended or surprised by the news that I was essentially being confined to quarters, but considering how negatively the crew had reacted to me just walking by them, it might be a good idea to keep a low profile until things had calmed down a bit. In the meantime, I was feeling a bit funky and decided to take a shower – after all, I hadn’t had one in more than 300 years.

I stripped down and stepped into the sonic shower booth. Sonic showers were the 24th century answer to how to get clean on a starship where using water for anything other than drinking was seen as wasteful. Sonic pulse vibrations were used to remove dirt and dead skin, etc., without requiring a drop of water or any of the plumbing a traditional stall or bathtub needed. While the sonic shower did leave me feeling pretty clean, it just didn't give the same sense of freshness that a real shower would have. Still, it was pretty cool to experience it for myself; the skin tingling was rather pleasant once you got used to it.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror after my shower caused my mind to still out of sheer shock. This was the first real chance I had gotten to see the new me and I couldn’t stop staring. It was like someone had paid a lot of money for an artist or a photographer with epic Photoshop skills to create an overidealized depiction of myself that only bore a passing resemblance to reality. I still looked like me, but yet _not_ _me_ at the same time.

Starting from the top, I still had brownish black hair cut in a buzzcut style (something I kept from my time in the army for the utility) and emerald green eyes (although they now seemed to almost glow), but that was where the similarities ended. For one thing, I was now five inches taller than I had been, and now stood to just over 6 feet 6 inches (a little over 2 meters) tall. For another, most people have some imperfections – eyes a little too close together, ears sticking out a bit too far, skin a bit splotchy, etc. My face was now completely symmetrical, which I had read was one of the things that made people attractive to others. My cheekbones, jaw, and chin were also more defined, giving me a rugged look I had wanted to have since I started going through puberty, but never actually achieved. Someone from my time would think I now looked like Jensen Ackles’ more handsome brother.

Looking down, it was even more obvious that I wasn’t the original me. I now had the body of a fitness/underwear model - a defined musculature without the over-bulging of weight lifters – the kind of body type that only movie stars who are basically paid to get professionally sculpted could achieve. I was sporting rock hard pecs, wide shoulders, jacked arms and biceps, and 8 pack abs, with that distinctive V-shape leading to my pelvis, and sculpted legs that looked as strong and thick as tree trunks – I could make Captain America envious with this bod.

And, wow, that was _not_ my penis... No, that was the penis of a very successful porn star from my time, in length, girth, and shape, with that distinctive arch to hit the g-spot just right. I wasn’t exactly lacking in the dong department before, but I had certainly gotten a fucking upgrade.

What was even odder was that my skin was missing any moles or other blemishes, in fact a couple of small scars I got as a kid, and a pretty big one across my right thigh, had completely disappeared – I wasn’t fond of them or anything, but I had gotten used to them… their absence made this already strange day feel even more surreal. I also noticed that the hair on the top of my head and eyebrows were the only place I still had hair – either my ROB patron believed in extreme manscaping, or part of the Augment process left me as smooth as a baby. I hadn’t bothered with body hair removal in the past (with the one exception of an ex-girlfriend who wanted to try hot wax play without telling me first), but damn did it look good with this new physique.

All in all, it was the body of a man blessed at birth with extraordinarily good genes and with a dedicated lifestyle to both achieve and maintain it – like someone who was at the height of their training for the Olympics that was to take place next week. I was what humanity might become in the future, after tens or hundreds of thousands of years of evolution, and a whole lot of luck.

After doing a couple of body builder poses (don’t hate, you’d do it too!), I got dressed and decided to learn about my internal upgrades by reading the report Doctor Crusher had written after her examination of me. The short story – someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make my insides as perfect as my outsides. On a genetic level, a bunch of junk DNA left over from the evolutionary process got removed or repurposed entirely. Every organ had been enhanced to superhuman levels. I literally now had cat-like reflexes and an incredible sense of balance, making my reaction time and agility off the charts.

My muscle fibers were incredibly dense now too, but also supple – I could probably wrestle a silverback gorilla without much effort, which explained how I had steamrolled three Klingons without breaking a sweat. Of course, that would seriously increase the effort needed for swimming. In addition to increased density, my muscles were also far more efficient than they should be – lactic acid would now take much longer to build up and leave them faster.

My kidneys, which were responsible for maintaining overall fluid balance in the human body, regulating and filtering minerals from blood, filtering waste materials from food, medications, and toxic substances, had been seriously enhanced. The Doctor had speculated that I could probably drink salt water and still be fine, even contaminated water. She had also speculated that my enhanced kidneys, working in conjunction with my enhanced gastrointestinal tract and digestive system, which were extremely efficient, might mean I would either pee or poop far less than a normal human, or not at all, depending on what I ate. Well, that was fucking weird to think about!

My lungs worked perfectly now, pushing air in deep, regular breaths and were enhanced with increased overall capacity and defenses against airborne toxins and contagions (I could run like a cheetah for miles without needing to take a rest now).

My stomach could digest most organic matter and would work in tandem with my super-liver and kidneys to prevent most poisons and toxins from affecting me.

My heart, arteries, and veins were more elastic, durable, and muscular, which would prevent me from bleeding out if I was wounded. That had added benefits, like preventing my arteries from getting clogged.

Stem cell production was off the charts, allowing for quick cellular regeneration (with enough time, I could even regrow a limb!) and my immune system was like a jealous lover, destroying every foreign contaminant without mercy.

The list went on, but some of the highlights was that my skeleton, joints, and every organ was laced with a network of apparently naturally produced carbon nanotubes - I could now withstand some pretty extreme punishment without organ damage or rupture. My skin had also been enhanced by them, making it surprisingly resilient – I could probably shrug off most cutting slashes with little to no damage and the nanotubes would work like organic clamps, keeping the skin together long enough for the cellular regeneration to heal with no scarring. The denser skin structure also helped with reducing radiation damage, but this meant I also wouldn’t tan well. The skin upgrade didn’t make me invulnerable, of course, but it could help keep me alive until help arrived. What was interesting about the skin nanotubes was the side benefit of being able to divert energy weapon beams throughout the nanotube network, allowing it to weaken or even dissipate the energy of a stun shot. Augments could already withstand a stun beam without any effort, but I _might_ actually be able to take on a beam set to kill. I had no desire to test that.

I looked and felt strong… powerful… like an apex predator. I would also be a long-lived one - my regeneration affected my chromosome’s telomeres so that they remained long. I wasn’t immortal, the Doctor had no idea what my expected lifespan actually was due to lack of data, meaning I was unique, but I was as close as you could get and still be human.

The one drawback to this demigod-like body was that I needed to eat… a lot. My body burned energy like a racing Bugatti Chiron with the air conditioner on. As long as I ate enough of the proper foods, my body would keep itself in tip-top shape with little effort (not much exercising required, yes!). Thankfully, the food replicators of this time could be used to alter food to make them extremely energy rich (or the opposite), even in small sizes. That meant being overweight in the future was pretty much a conscious choice at this point. Walking the halls with Data I had been struck by just how attractive everyone was. Few had had the defined musculature that I did, that still required a great deal of time and effort to achieve and maintain, but none were fat. Sure, this was a semi-military vessel, but even the civilians I saw were fit and trim.

All this information brought me back to the big question: why me? Why had someone gone through all this trouble of not just enhancing, but basically rewriting my entire body to become this seemingly perfect lethal weapon? For that matter, the few Augments featured in the Star Trek series and movies painted an interesting combination of incredible physical abilities and intellect, with a not so healthy dose of megalomania. Why wasn’t I cackling while making evil plans to make myself Emperor of the Galaxy? I had no interest in conquest, nor did I have an unyielding belief in my superiority over everyone and the need to prove that superiority. I did have a surprising lack of empathy at the death I had caused, though. After all these changes to my body and mind, was I even still me?

_No!_ Fuck that kind of thinking. There was nothing to be done about it, and even if I could, would I?? Would I really give all this up? Would I want to go back to my old life? Nah, this new body was a blessing. It would allow me to better adjust to this new time and universe, give me a much better chance at survival, and damn if it wouldn't make me a hit with the ladies. I'd much rather be a rich playboy adventurer with galactic influence and respect, certainly, and tons of hot women by my side. That sounded like way more fun. If I ended up ruling a moon or small planet, it wasn’t going to be because of conquest. Why play the conqueror when you could simply buy one?

I sent one final smile at my new reflection, a real one this time. The acceptance of my new circumstances and situation made me feel lighter than fucking air. I went back to the replicators and discovered a problem with them, well, not so much a problem as a pretty big limitation. They could only create objects whose patterns had already been scanned into memory, and this rather limited my choices in clothing. Since there was no way in hell I was putting a skintight unitard jumpsuit back on, even if I could pull it off, I looked through the historical records on my quarter’s screen so that I could find something suitable to wear, something that was from 'my time.'

What I discovered was that next to nothing familiar was stored in the computer's memory that would have come into existence between the 1990’s and 2020. Which meant that while I was able to blast Queen’s ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ through the speakers that were hidden somewhere in the room, I couldn’t do the same with something from my time. It also was a pain to program the replicator to give me any kind of clothing with which I was truly comfortable with as these were far from normal selections and my familiarity with the computer was practically non-existent.

Thankfully, after some serious effort, I was able to get my hands on some basic boots, socks, boxer briefs, jeans, and a nice polo shirt, with some changes to accommodate superior modern cloth materials that hadn’t been invented yet in my time. They all came in an assortment of colors and that made me feel much better than before. If nothing else, I knew at least knew where I could put my hands. Why did these people wear skin tight everything with no freaking pockets? Pockets were useful!

At this point I was pretty much starving and decided to replicate some food and adjusted the calorie count to maximum. That took some effort though. The Federation/Starfleet was all about the health and fitness of its citizens so it took a few minutes of arguing with and then finally overriding the computer (which I thankfully was able to do) to provide the replicated food that did not meet the standard nutritional guidelines and restrictions for a human. I would have to ask Doctor Crusher to make a notation in my file that I was exempt from these nutritional guidelines and restrictions.

Maybe I was feeling a little homesick, but I decided to get some old-fashioned mac and cheese (that, thankfully, had survived to the modern day) with some Korean BBQ and topped it off with a fizzy grape soda. It wasn’t as good as when I was a kid, but it hit the comfort food button hard – maybe I would play around with the settings later for a more authentic taste.

In any case, it was time to get serious and hit the proverbial books. I decided to start with a history lesson and go from there.

**XXXXX**

**Guest Quarters. U.S.S _. Enterprise_.**

The history of this dimension was fascinating… and I was certain that this was not just an altered timeline; this wasn’t my dimension. There were too many differences from before I was even born. For example, according to the archives of this place, in 1968 the United States of America had launched an orbital nuclear weapons platform from 'McKinley Rocket Base'. Following the launch, the platform developed a severe malfunction and began to re-enter the atmosphere in an uncontrolled manner. Attempts to initiate the self-destruct initially failed, but the platform eventually detonated 104 miles above Asia.

This incident couldn’t have happened in my timeline – first off, there was no such place as the McKinley Rocket Base, but even if there had been, the technology necessary to create, build, and launch orbital nuclear weapons platform was still in its infancy at that time. We had barely gotten astronauts safely into space, and they weighed a heck of a lot less than a nuke, or rather, multiple nukes. Also, even if all of that wasn’t a factor, this kind of incident couldn’t have been kept quiet – the Soviets would have noticed something like this happening and would have told the world, or it would have leaked out by my time, many decades later. Finally, while a non-proliferation treaty against the spread of nuclear weapons and their technology had been signed in my timeline, this version had been far more restrictive, with actual teeth, compared to basically the gentleman’s agreement that was my world’s version.

There were loads of examples that had similar deviations from my version of history. For example, the company Chronowerx Industries (which didn’t exist in my timeline) dominated in the field of micro-computers, which seriously impacted IBM, Microsoft, Apple, and Google, and had obviously kept them from ever reaching the lofty heights they would have otherwise, which in turn had knock-down effects on other technologies, but had others show up earlier than they had in my time. Another example is the invention of safe cryosleep – now that definitely wasn’t around before I got transported here, and yet the technology was stable enough to be put on a starship in the 1990’s! We were still freezing the heads of dead rich people in the hope they would be revived one day in my time, not putting living people safely in cryostatic suspension. Of course, one of the biggest differences from my world was the creation of the Augments.

I wasn’t a big fan of the original Star Trek, so the only information I knew about Augments was from Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Khan and a three-episode arc on Star Trek: Enterprise. I knew some of the basics, but since I was now an Augment, I thought it prudent to dig much further into their history. Their existence was a major deviation from my timeline that began in the 1950’s, where apparently everyone and their uncle was a mad scientist who began playing around with genetic engineering. Unfortunately, some of those groups succeeded, and the results of their programs would later be called Augments.

I don’t know how much of the Augment mindset was taught or innate, but they all seemed to have a contempt for all non-Augments and considered themselves to be superior to everyone else… so when they began to think themselves better than their leaders, well, there was only one way that story was going to end. By the early 1990’s, the Augments had seized power over most of the world before turning on each other and causing a massive war. Entire populations were bombed out of existence, ferocious battles were fought and the Earth was, for a while, on the verge of a new Dark Age. In some macabre bonus trivia, I found out that this universe's version of me had died in a bombing arranged by an Augment in 1991. That me wasn’t alone, of course, Augments had killed more people than Hitler and Stalin combined and had almost ended our species. No wonder they were so hated and feared even centuries later by humanity. I kind of understood why the people I saw while walking to my quarters were avoiding me – I’m lucky they didn’t make a lynch mob to stop me.

Even after they were beaten, it wasn’t the end of the Augments. Like bed bugs, they kept showing up even after it seemed like they were finally defeated. For example, a group of about a hundred managed to escape on a spaceship (the S.S. _Botany Bay_ ) and were picked up by the _Enterprise-A_. The leader of that group, Khan Noonien Singh, was a conqueror tyrant during the Eugenics Wars and became the poster child for why Augments were such a threat as not long after waking, he tried to take over that vessel along with a group of his followers but ultimately failed. Khan and his people agreed to be exiled on a garden world - happy ending, right? It would be, except that not long after they started their life there, a nearby planet blew up and decimated the Augment colony. Irrationally blaming Captain James T. Kirk for everything, he tried to get revenge for what he saw as a betrayal of him and his people, which eventually led to the destruction of the U.S.S. _Reliant_ and the remaining Augments from the S.S. _Botany Bay_.

There were even more deviations in this universe's history. For example, there were manned missions all over the solar system in the early parts of the 21st century and some were even before 2016. Apparently the USA had mostly stayed out of the Eugenics War, and had invested a heck of a lot more money and resources into their space program than they ever had in my world/time which was strange since I would have imagined that the USA would have been freaking out over the genocidal Übermensch running around trying to take over the world. Something just didn't add up, but that might have been my own universe’s history coloring my thoughts.

In any case, it was time to try and figure out how I got into the hands of Kivas Fajo.

"Computer," I called aloud to the room, an answering chime indicating it was listening for my commands. "Tell me about the cryostasis pod I was found in."

A copious amount of technical data quickly filled the screen and I was informed that the pod had the word/name 'Gothic' printed on the side in English. For some reason, that just felt right, so I figured that that was as good a name as any to use now since I didn't feel right using my original name. It was a new name for a new life.

I once again felt this was the work of some God-like being, and judging by the feeling of rightness with that choice, that’s what it obviously wanted me to call myself. I had the distinct feeling they were going to be mostly hands off, so why not accommodate them?

Unfortunately, I never did figure out how Fajo found me, but however I got here, it was starting to be ok by me.

**XXXXX**

**Guest Quarters. U.S.S. _Enterprise_.**

The next several hours were spent reading, analyzing, cross-referencing, and synthesizing a truly massive amount of information, so much so in fact that I wasn’t sure how I was doing it without metaphorical steam coming out of my ears. While I genuinely loved the Star Trek franchise, it had never been a ‘hard science show.’ That had allowed it to get away with fictional things like faster-than-light (FTL) travel, energy shields, and how somehow changing the polarity on a device could save the day at the last minute without really needing to explain why... which is probably why I enjoyed it so much. The technobabble on the shows usually didn’t mean much, often just a bunch of word salad to excuse the plot’s MacGuffin, and I had always taken it as such… but now, that fictional stuff was somehow tangible and real, which was giving me a bit of an existential crisis along with a massive headache. I needed to merge concepts like ‘warp field theory’ and ‘multi-phase discrimination’ with the same fundamental truths like ‘Don’t spit in the wind if you don’t want it to land on your face.’ and ‘If you date a crazy girl, the sex is gonna be amazing, but you’re probably gonna get stabbed at some point or your dick chopped off.’

The main reason I was driven to figure this stuff out was I wanted to be the captain of my own ship, and I suppose my own destiny as well, which in my mind, went hand-in-hand. Right now, I was on the _Enterprise_ , but eventually we would return to Earth, where I would be dropped off – I’m not a member of Starfleet, a family member of the crew, or even a civilian contractor. While seeing Earth in the 24th century was something I was looking forward to, I couldn’t help but feel like it would be like when I came back from the army after my deployment in Afghanistan and saw my old room – everything would probably still be there, but different. It wouldn’t really be home anymore. Also, being an Augment on Earth, was going to be a big headache, I could feel it already. Hopefully Starfleet would keep my status under wraps. I just couldn’t see the benefit of advertising that.

It would take time to get my hands on a ship, but once I did, I would need to know how to take care of all the various problems that crop up when a ship’s machinery is in regular use and not running off to a shipyard for every little thing. I’ve also seen enough Trek to know that I may one day end up crashed somewhere and knowing how something fundamentally works, what parts make it up, and how to build or find replacements, might be the difference between my life and death. That meant first learning the basics that underpinned all Federation technology, not the least of which were whole new branches of math, physics, metallurgy, programming, etc., the list went on and on. Fortunately, my mental enhancements did give me a boost in comprehension and a memory with perfect recall, but apparently even a genetic superman has his limits… because when someone requested entry to my quarters, I literally threw myself out of the chair like my ass was on fire. Any distraction at this moment was a welcome one.

I couldn't resist giving the Picard special 'Come!' command to allow entry.

"Is this a good time to talk?" A woman asked as she entered the room, a friendly and disarming smile on her face. "I can come back later, if you prefer." She paused for a moment. "My name is Deanna Troi," my visitor introduced unnecessarily. "I'm the ship's counsellor. I was never given your name."

The first thing I noticed about this universe’s version of Deanna Troi was that she looked pretty damn close to Marina Sirtis, just with softer features and a slightly more pointed chin – giving her a more heart-shaped face than the version I was expecting. I had always thought she was a fine-looking woman on the show. Betazoids (her race, plural) on the shows, typically had dark hair and eyes, but this version was more purple than black, giving her a slightly otherworldly appearance. The next thing was that she was apparently really into elaborate styling because her hair was in this kind of tight ponytail cone mixed with braids and the whole thing must have taken forever, unless there was some advanced tool that helped her.

Troi was also wearing an outfit that was definitely not Starfleet standard, and would have been daring even for a night out at a club – something like you would expect a model to wear at a fashion show, but few people would actually wear day-to-day. Whoever had designed that uniform must have really had a thing for strategic cut outs, because a lot of Troi’s skin was tastefully on display – not that I particularly minded. The cutouts also made it pretty clear she wasn’t wearing a bra, but maybe in the 24the century bras weren’t needed? Some sections of her clothing were nearly transparent and she had on a knee-length skirt that had slits on the sides running up almost to her belt. Fortunately, Troi had an athletic-but-curvy body and the confidence to work something like that, giving her this aura of sensuality that I would imagine made working as a counselor a lot harder than it needed to be. But, again, maybe such things were normal in the 24th. I hadn’t been here long enough to learn if that were true. That she seemed to be successful enough to be posted on the flagship of the fleet was a testament to her skill, and meant I needed to be on my guard around her.

For a moment, I did wonder how Troi got away with wearing something like that on what was purportedly a military vessel - granted, science and exploration were Starfleet's main purpose, but still, it seemed oddly unprofessional and there were families onboard. I had to once again remind myself, for probably the 20th time, that I was viewing this all through 21st century human sensibilities, and what was once taboo or considered scandalous might not be so at this time, and possibly not for Betazoids.

Since the Federation was a combination of many races and cultures, I doubt there was a single cultural taboo shared throughout the whole alliance. The people of Betazed were almost physiologically mandated to value honesty, openness, and candor - to the point where even their weddings were performed in the nude, guests and all, so as to show the two getting married did so fully knowing who each other was, without any barriers or hidden layers. It made a strange kind of sense, they were a race of telepaths after all. I had even read a Star Trek novel where it was suggested that on Betazed, important information could be passed mind-to-mind, and would be disseminated across the entire planet in 15 minutes. That kind of connection and closeness, even with strangers, shared amongst an entire species, had likely prevented the violent wars and constant conflict that had nearly destroyed humanity.

I suppose one might wonder why I seemed fixated on Troi’s outfit (beyond the obvious) – the problem was that it was the latest in a long list of differences that seemed to be cropping up between my current reality and the ST:TNG TV show that I was intimately familiar with. That had profound implications on a myriad number of levels.

Waking up on the _Enterprise_ , I hadn’t been sure if I really was somehow transported into the TV show or an alternate Star Trek reality– but Dr. Crusher’s different appearance had started to point toward an alternate reality, as did the minor differences in Data, and now Troi. I might have excused those inconsistencies, except that Troi’s dress spoke not just of a different clothing style than the TV version’s, but also potentially of a different character and personality. The Troi in front of me was confident, competent, and was able to wield her sexuality and intelligence like a weapon – something the Troi from the show was not able to do (at least not as well).

That raised another question, was this truly a Troi of an alternate Star Trek reality? Or was she the same, but things been toned down for television or altered to conform with the attitudes of the writers? It was possible that some of the differences in this Troi and the one portrayed by the actress, Marina Sirtis, could be the result of cultural attitudes at work in a 90’s era television show. The actress had certainly complained enough publicly in the years after the show had ended about how underutilized she was for the first several seasons, saying she felt like a living decoration on the bridge with only a handful of lines to call her own. If one were to go further down this particular rabbit hole, one might wonder what other unexpected differences there were ahead, for whatever reason, and that freaked me the fuck out. Did the reason why even matter?!

No… I had to stop this train of thought before it ran me over and left me catatonic with indecision. Bottom line, this place wasn’t an exact copy of TNG or Star Trek in general. There were significant differences, but enough _commonalities_ to qualify as foreknowledge, and that was useful, that was valuable, that was something I could turn to my advantage. For the sake of my sanity I would view this reality as an alternate universe take on the Star Trek I was familiar with.

From what I’d seen of the _Enterprise_ so far, it was pretty similar to how the sets looked on TNG, and the events leading to my awakening were close enough to the episode ‘The Most Toys’ to allow me to recognize what had happened, at least generally. As to how I had watched episodes based on what appeared to be actual events, at least in this dimension, I suspect that there had been some sort of dimensional bleed-through - where the show’s writers from my reality had gotten glimpses of some parallel reality’s (or even multiple realities’) events and used that to create the various Star Trek incarnations. The possibility that the writer’s themselves had created this universe through the power of their thoughts, by writing that story down, like several episodes of Star Trek: Deep Space 9 had suggested, was beyond my comprehension and best left to the philosophers. It was irrelevant for my purposes anyway.

All this went through my head in a split-second. Quick enough for me to be able to process it all and then turn my focus back on the lovely woman in front of me with little delay. Being an Augment is really something I’m coming to love! I’m sure Troi, as an empath, might have felt some momentary emotional turbulence from me, but it was likely so quick she couldn’t make sense of it, or if she did, she didn’t give any indication or say anything, so I appeared to be in the clear.

I didn't need to be empathic or trained in psychology or even be an Augment to know that she hadn't come here just for a causal chat.

"You can call me Gothic, Counselor. Please feel free to take a seat," I told her.

Troi didn’t say anything in response, just taking a seat and looking me in the eyes as we soon settled into a period of silence. I figured she was attempting to use an interrogation technique where the person being questioned begins to talk to fill the awkward silence and perhaps reveal more than they meant to. I couldn’t help fidgeting and decided to get the conversation moving along – which meant that it had worked, fuck!

"What would you like to talk about, Counselor?" I wondered as I too took a seat, signaling my willingness to engage. "My relationship with my mother? My slight case of evil megalomania?"

Counselor Troi seemed more amused than anything else at my snark, my comments likely being interpreted as common gripes about psychologists from my era.

"Gonna dope me up with happy pills?" I only half-jokingly asked. The whole day had likely made me seem bipolar – going from one emotional extreme to another. Everything I had known about the world and how it worked was irrelevant and now in question, even the knowledge from the TV shows couldn’t be viewed as entirely certain or completely reliable anymore. I guess something about being an Augment prevented outright panic attacks, otherwise I think I might have had a psychotic break by now.

"You don't need any medication," Troi assured me. "Your body chemistry is perfectly normal according to Doctor Crusher; it's your emotional state that concerns me. Your whole life has been turned upside down."

I really didn’t want to talk about that, but since she was an empath, she already knew how I felt. I had tried to deflect and she had completely ignored my remarks, looking amused at my rather ham-handed attempt to rile her up.

"If it helps, I don't think you are insane," Troi commented. “But I would like to confirm you are not a threat to the ship or its crew. Humanity’s desire to quicken its evolution via genetic manipulation nearly resulted in its extinction.”

I'd once heard that if you worried that you were insane then you most likely weren’t, because insane people don't worry about their mental health. If that was true then I found it rather comforting, because my sanity did concern me quite a lot at the moment – suddenly being superhuman in the freaking Star Trek universe was more than a bit crazy sounding.

"But you guys think I'm evil, don't you?" I asked her bluntly. “I’ve read the historical archives; Augments were somehow worse than the Nazis and I didn’t think that that was possible.”

“At the moment Gothic, we’re not sure,” she said, after a slight sigh. “Dr. Crusher is currently running tests to determine whether you are native to this reality or not. If you are from another reality, then we will work to either send you back to where you came from, or if that’s not possible, to integrate you into this new universe and time. If you are not from an alternate reality, then the situation becomes far more complex. Even though the Eugenics Wars was centuries ago now, I suspect you will be tried for those crimes and imprisoned for the terrible deeds the Augments are infamous for.”

“Which do you think I am?” I asked curiously. While I had suspected that that might be the case, still, it’s not every day you find out you may be tried for a centuries’ old genocide and war crimes that you didn’t commit. Would I even get a fair shot?

“I have interviewed criminals and murderers in my training as a counselor,” Troi said. “While I will, of course, wait for the official results from Dr. Crusher,” she paused, and smiled, “I don’t think you were one of the Augment tyrants of Earth. I wouldn’t have come here alone if I truly believed that.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. An overwhelming feeling of relief filled me. Troi let out a groan and clutched her head, as if in pain, or was it pleasure? I moved towards her, but she waved me away, though not unkindly.

"Most humans of this time don't feel things as intensely as you do," Troi told me, looking a little uncomfortable. "As an empath, it's a little overwhelming for me."

“Sorry,” I said. “I’ll try and have the emotional range of a frozen meat popsicle.”

Troi laughed, now over her momentary disorientation. Her laughter made certain parts of her body jiggle enticingly, which told me: a) apparently bras were either in disfavor at the moment or were an anachronism in the 24th century, or b) Troi’s tits were so full and perky she simply didn’t need to wear them, which suited me just fine. The amazing thing was that while her outfit was certainly enticing, it was still pretty tasteful overall. If she had designed it herself, in an age of replicators that wouldn’t be crazy, she had some serious skills.

Apparently Troi felt my sudden surge of lust because she gave me a playful wink and took a step back, taking a breath that allowed her to regain her professional demeanor. Troi didn’t seem disgusted by what she had felt from me – on the contrary, I could smell the beginning of her own arousal, that same sweet and tangy scent I had detected coming from Dr. Crusher, but her step back was pretty definitive. It clearly said that while I was under her care, there would be no hanky-panky… and pushing the issue now would end any chance for something between us in the future when I was no longer her ‘patient’.

“I don’t believe it necessary to go to that extreme. Federation citizens aren’t robots, we have just tried to better ourselves so that we are more emotionally stable, with an ideal towards maintaining an equilibrium as much as possible. Medicine has also allowed us to cure or control most known mental disorders, and we've taught people how to reduce conflict and instead focus on working together towards a common goal,” Troi explained with a smile. “I’m sure that our society will take time to adapt to, but we’re also not that different from the people of your time – with all the good and bad that comes with it.”

Troi paused for a moment, then continued, “While I hope that adaption will be easy for you, I don’t want you to worry if you have bad moments – you can take comfort in the fact that even in the 24th century, _people still need help_. That help could be gotten through medical treatment or counseling, but sometimes just talking with someone else can help a great deal.”

Honestly, that put me a bit at ease, which confirmed just how effective a counselor she was and why she was onboard Starfleet’s flagship. It had been a real rollercoaster of a day and I was feeling a bit emotionally drained. I sat down on a nearby couch and gestured for Troi to join me in sitting. I couldn’t help tilting my head back on the cushion and just looking at the ceiling for several long moments. I heard her sit down on a nearby chair and felt her eyes on me.

“Tell me, counselor,” I asked. “Is there a big need for your profession in this bright and peaceful future, especially on a military ship?”

“Unfortunately, yes. People can react to different stimulus in random ways – what would break one person, another one might not even notice. For example, Starfleet’s primary role is based on exploring the galaxy, but unfortunately, not everyone shares that view and sometimes there is conflict. Not everyone who goes through that type of experience can handle it as well as they hope and thus can come to need assistance from people like me.”

“It sounds like you have a fulltime job running around dealing with stuff like this,” I said tiredly. “How do you find time to do your other duties?”

“Other duties?” she queried, apparently surprised I knew she was more than a counselor.

“Yeah, I read that you’re a part of the command crew and senior staff on the ship,” I said, hopefully covering my slip-up. “Why does a counselor need to be on the bridge? If someone shoots at the _Enterprise_ , do you turn to the captain and tell him ‘I think they’re angry’?”

I sat up to look at Troi, honestly curious about her answer. On the show, she felt a bit superfluous on the bridge - although I wasn’t sure if that was more about the scripts in a 90’s era television show then the character herself, who could change from competent to annoyingly useless from one episode to the next.

She smiled at me and answered, “Sometimes things really are that simple, but there have also been cases where we’ve been fired on, to use your example, out of fear, rather than true animus. Or were forced to by circumstance. Or maybe it was meant only as a warning shot. I can also help the Captain by telling him if someone is lying or might be hiding something important from us.”

That actually sounded pretty useful and effective. When I get a ship of my own, having an empath onboard might not be a bad idea.

“So, Counselor,” I asked. “What happens now?”

“For now, please continue learning about this time. You should also consider where you might want to live and what you will want to do once we return to Earth. It is one of the most beautiful and safe planets in the entire Federation.”

Safe… no, it wasn’t safe and I couldn’t help but let out a bitter snort. The barbarians were almost at the gates and the Federation was in no shape to defend against them, lacking both the will and the means to fight them. As Troi had said, Starfleet considered itself explorers first, and a military second. In their arrogance or naivety (or stupidity, depending on who you asked), they had decided that since they played by the rules, that everyone would.

I became filled with a sense of terrible frustration. Even if I wanted to, which I wasn’t sure I did, I couldn’t tell anyone about what was to come because I couldn’t be sure that I wouldn’t disappear into a deep dark hole somewhere with all my memories extracted and my body dissected. I also couldn’t do anything about the situation because I had no resources to work with, and even if I did, they wouldn’t trust me because I’m an Augment. What a fucking mess. This might not be my universe or my time, but I was still human, born on Earth, and that affinity would always be there. For all its faults, the Federation was something to be proud of.

Troi must have felt my sudden unease, and spike of anger and frustration, because she immediately sat up straight in her chair. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Not at all counselor,” I said, getting a handle on myself. “Just a little tired.”

I tried to cover it, but the easy rapport that I had had with Troi was broken.

“Well then, Gothic, it appears that our first unofficial session is over,” she said with a small grin.

“If you should need my assistance, you may make use the ship’s comm system to contact me. For now, try to make yourself at home, settle in and learn about this time. I hope you enjoy your time on the _Enterprise_. Good night, Gothic.”

“Goodnight, counselor,” I said, and as much as I hated for her to leave, I loved to watch her go.

Troi stopped in the doorway, seemingly hesitated, and then asked me, “Before I go, I have one more question to ask you. _Are you a danger to the ship or its crew_?" she asked sharply, in a tone she had not used before. I noticed that she had waited until she was in earshot of the guards outside – this was one smart cookie.

Her question and the tone it had been asked in had caught me off guard, which I imagine was the whole point. I strongly suspected that my actual answer was far less important than the emotions I had had when she asked the question that way. I thought for a moment before answering, trying to be as honest as I could under the circumstances. “It depends on how I’m treated," I answered her truthfully. "I know the crew fears me, that's clear as day. That's fine, as long as it stays only that. But if they act on that fear, if they try to harm me, I will defend myself. An Augment now or not, all sentients have the right to defend themselves, don’t they?”

Troi nodded slowly and responded, “I suppose that will have to be acceptable for now. Until our next meeting, Gothic.”

I couldn’t let out a sarcastic, “Don’t worry counselor, I’ll be on my best behavior – I won’t even destroy the furniture in an explosion of rage and uncontrolled emotion.”

Troi shook her head, and walked out with a small smile back on her lips.

Except for the ending, Troi’s visit was a pleasant diversion - they definitely didn’t make counselors like her in my time… or if they did, I never found them. It was actually a bit comforting to know that even in the future people sometimes didn’t have their head on straight and needed help. For the most part, I think I was dealing with the whole situation rather well, probably due to the enhanced body and intellect, but having a sympathetic ear in such an attractive package was surprisingly nice. What soured me the most is how distracted I had been - Troi had managed to trip me up a couple of times in ways I should have seen coming. If she had been an enemy, or worse, a true telepath, that could have ended badly for me… I needed to be far more careful in the future.

It had been a long day so I decided to get some rest. I took off my clothes and chucked them on the floor. I slipped under the covers and damn if it wasn’t the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in, with silk-like sheets and some sort of self-adjusting mattress that cradled my body just right.

“Computer, lights,” I said and the room fell into darkness, but only after a moment or two of hesitation while the computer determined that my command had been meant to tell the computer to deactivate the lights in preparation for sleep. It might have even noticed that I was in bed already and that conformed to human sleep patterns. Who knows how smart it was.

I noticed that even with the lights off, I could still see pretty well. Apparently, I had the ability to see clearly in even very low-light as part of the Augment enhancement package. Who knew?

I wondered what other secrets my body had that I hadn’t yet discovered before finally falling asleep, knowing that my adventure in this time was just beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to or part of Star Trek. This fan fiction was written purely for fun.

**July 2020 Author’s Note:**

This chapter of the rewrite was reorganized and co-written by at16908.

**The Adventures of Augment Gothic**

**Chapter 2 – How to Make Friends with Aliens and Alienate Teenagers**

**Guest Quarters. U.S.S. _Enterprise_.**

I woke up in darkness, with only faint light and white lines streaking by a large window. At first, I didn’t remember where I was, but as soon as my brain kicked into gear, it was like it hit me all at once. The memories made by my enhanced brain were like watching an ultra-high definition movie with all five senses somehow intertwined all together, like a memory file on a video file that I had complete control in reviewing. Pause, slow motion, fast forward and backward, zoom, sharpen, it was all available, even showing things that I hadn’t consciously been aware of the first time around. I went over the events of yesterday and was surprised at all the details and nuances I would have missed if not for my new enhancements. The amount of information I had taken in, even subconsciously, was simply astounding.

When I had first learned about Augments on the shows, I had wondered if an Augment’s descent into megalomania was the result of nature or nurture – and now that I was one, I still wasn’t sure what the truth was. Since I had become an Augment so late in life, would I gradually slip into megalomania or would the ‘normal’ years of my life protect me from such an outcome? Would it feel natural? I could easily see how someone could go down that road, as physically and mentally I really was _better_ than just about everyone else…by some purely quantitative measure at least. But, that said, for all of my new ability, I wasn’t a god or even a demigod.

Like Khan had proven several times over, just because we were more, arguably better by some subjective and objective measures than the rest of humanity, we were _not_ invincible. I could be beaten, imprisoned, even killed, fairly easily actually, in this time. I also didn’t feel like I had that spark of genius (or madness) that allowed musicians and artists to create works of art that lasted the test of time and made their names immortal, but maybe that would change? I needed to keep myself grounded or risk becoming someone my former self would have fought against.

Those dark thoughts aside, I actually felt amazing - like I had just had the best night’s sleep in my life, took a hot shower, and chugged a gallon of freshly brewed gourmet coffee that practically invigorated the soul as well as the body. I felt no aches, no pains, and no more bad knee… I didn’t even have bad breath or teeth funk from forgetting to brush the night before – it was incredible!

I got up from the bed and got dressed. “Computer, lights,” I called aloud, and walked into the next room to use these quarter’s personal computer terminal. I sat down and activated it carefully, paying close attention to the amount of strength I used. Since I’d woken up an Augment, a few moments of inattention had resulted in my breaking several pieces of furniture and technology which hadn’t been designed for someone of my strength. In time, I suspected that I wouldn’t need to pay such close attention to it, but for right now I had to be very careful lest I break everything I touched, like pressing too hard on a touch panel and cracking the material.

Noticing the current stardate and time, amazingly, I realized that only a little over three hours had passed since I had gone to sleep. Luckily, the benefits of having an Augment body kept on coming and after 300 years of forced sleep, the less sleep I needed to stay sane was all the better, especially with the mind-breaking amounts of information I had to learn about this time. A seven-year-old human in this time probably knew more than I did. The extra hours per day would be put to good use.

But before I could get going, I found myself really hungry all of a sudden – not quite starving, but definitely in desperate need of some fuel. After a big breakfast of half a dozen fluffy scrambled eggs, a rasher of bacon, a dozen sausages, lots of hash browns, pancakes, coffee, and fresh fruit from all over Earth, all modified by the replicator to have far more calories than was normal, I was all set. Just for the hell of it, I tried Miles O’Brien’s favorite coffee, the one he was famous for ordering on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine - Jamaican blend, double-strong, double-sweet… and it was fantastic! I added a little cream, since I like my coffee a bit muddy, but damn if this wasn’t my new favorite. For this breakfast I was keeping to comfort foods I was familiar with, native to Earth, but in the future, I was set on trying exotic foods from all over the alpha quadrant. What was the point of being in this time if you didn’t try all kinds of alien foods? Even eating could be an adventure!

With an extra-large cup filled with delicious coffee in my hand, I decided to fill all of my free time with continuing to study everything I could get my hands on, starting with the basic education every child received in the Federation, and slowly working my way up the educational ladder. With my Augment brain, stuff that took most people years to learn I could blitz through with little trouble. The main difficulty was there was just _so much material_ , and I was nowhere close to the stuff that I really, really wanted to learn like starship engineering and weapon design… I’d get there eventually, but I also had to be careful not to trip up any security programs that might be monitoring my actions on the computer. Working my way up from the bottom, using the standard educational track, would hopefully be seen as expected and harmless, an attempt to acclimate myself into this new time. I needed to show that I was not a threat, especially in these early days, to anyone who might be monitoring me.

I was trying to stay away from publicly available materials even approaching what Starfleet considered classified or that could be viewed as dangerous. What most people don’t realize is that a lot of the underpinnings of everyday tech (including weapons, armor, shields, etc.) can be found in publicly available archives and technical papers. I remember a true story about how a kid in the 1970’s (in my dimension), used those types of public materials to design a viable nuclear weapon for a school project. Now, he didn’t build an _actual_ nuke (only a mockup), this kid obviously lacking the precision explosives and fissionable material required, but it was apparently close enough to the real thing that the FBI had quickly confiscated it and his design. When questioned later about where he had gotten the information for such a thing, he answered honestly that he had gotten it from the library.

In my case, maybe I couldn’t get my hands on the exact blueprints or replicator patterns for say, a standard Starfleet phaser rifle, but I could find out the general principles on which a phaser worked – phasers having been around for over 200 years by this point --which could lead to extrapolating how the modern Starfleet version worked or even one day making my own more effective variant. I had no doubt I would get there eventually, but right now it felt like I was wading hip-deep through a swamp, blindfolded, while trying to track a hungry moving crocodile – just when I thought I caught up with him, it seemed like even more swamp to trudge through was ahead. I’m pretty sure that I won’t ever need to know something like the mating habits of an Orithian Saber Cat, but considering the way things seemed to work in the Star Trek universe, it would be better to know it and not need it, then need it and not know it. This new brain had plenty of memory storage for even the most esoteric facts. If a human child in the Federation was supposed to learn this in school, then I would too.

Frankly, even my enhanced brain seemed to have its limits, at least insofar as how much I could try to stuff into it in a very, very short span of time. The constant adding to the list of things I needed to learn wasn’t helping. It wasn’t so much that the materials in question were particularly difficult or beyond this humble 20th century human to understand. On the contrary, I had never been able to understand and instantly connect with other knowledge the things I had to study as well as I was now, but I think I was reaching the point of information overload and needed some downtime to assimilate it all.

I had been at this now for hours -- studying with a level of focus and intensity that I genuinely think might have been physiologically impossible for me before -- but I think I was reaching the point of diminishing returns, the point where it was getting harder and harder to remain focused without Herculean effort. I had started taking longer and longer breaks before resuming again and had even seriously been considering… exercising. Something which wasn’t even all that necessary anymore according to Dr. Crusher’s report on my new physiology.

Maybe I just needed to get out of my quarters for a bit. While this place didn’t look like a prison cell, in fact it looked like a high-end luxury apartment, the fact that I was stuck in here was starting to aggravate me.

“Computer, what time is it?” I asked.

“Current ship time is 1035,” the computer replied.

“Thanks,” I said, thinking that that was the end of the conversation when the computer replied with, “You are welcome.”

For a moment, I was rather surprised that the computer responded, almost conversationally, but figured that the _Enterprise_ probably had a souped-up version of Alexa or the Google Assistant running as a Virtual Assistant (VI). VI’s weren’t capable of independent thinking, just functioning according to set programming, answering inquiries and completing assigned tasks as requested - which reminded me of yet another branch of science I needed to learn and understand, computer programming. I doubt I could ever make a true Artificial Intelligence (AI) or Android-level intelligence (or even want to considering the dangers), but it would be really useful to have a starship controller or even companion device with VI capability.

Thinking of the computer’s answer, I also realized why I was feeling so burned out. I had taken breaks here and there, but I had essentially been studying for about 13 hours straight. That was not something I had been capable of before. Without a clear delineation between night and day providing by the rising and setting of the sun, I must have gone to bed at a really strange time last night.

I wasn’t sure about the duty rotation on the _Enterprise_ , or how time was set or decided on the ship when we weren’t in a solar system, but I figured that the day shift had already begun. I decided to contact Counselor Troi and see if I could get out of here.

“Gothic to Counselor Troi,” I said, after activating the comm system by tapping on a button on my computer.

“Troi here,” she responded. “Good morning Gothic, I hope you had a pleasant rest.”

“Good morning to you too,” I replied. “For what little time I slept, I slept great and felt quite rested. Counselor, I’m feeling a bit cooped up in here – any chance you can ask the Captain if I could take a walk somewhere?”

Troi paused for several moments, possibly speaking to the Captain, because she soon responded, “While I can’t yet take you on a full tour of the ship, if you’d like, I can take you to the holodeck for some recreation.”

I don’t know how I managed to agree without squee-ing like a school girl. Holodecks are one of the coolest pieces of technology in all of Star Trek. When you first enter a holodeck, it usually doesn’t look that impressive, just a large empty hall. The _Enterprise’s_ holodecks have all the surfaces covered with black (almost light-absorbing) panels that are separated by bright yellow gold lines in a grid pattern (think 1-meter square black tiles with yellow grout in between them). But, once a holoprogram is activated, it looks and feels like being transported into another world. Everything not part of the program disappears (even the single doorway in and out of the room) and is replaced by an almost perfect virtual reality simulator - you can go anywhere, do, and be anything… as long as the computer can process it. That said, Star Trek holodecks do have one glaring imperfection, namely that they are notorious for going haywire at the worst possible times, and required carefully thought out commands to prevent accidents from occurring.

Not long after we spoke on the comm, Troi showed up and we walked towards the holodeck, two Vulcan security personnel in tow. I was still getting the odd-look from passing crew, but I decided not to worry overmuch about it until I could do something about it. We made a little small-talk, but my attention was focused on the destination, and taking in every little detail on the way there. It was amazing what incredible little details were left out of the TV show’s sets.

Troi and I walked into the room, but the guards stopped at the doorway, taking up position on either side. They had watched me with hawk-like intensity every moment we were walking, always walking several steps behind me. Even in the turbolift they had stood in separate corners, keeping their backs to the wall, eyes on me, with a hand always on their phasers. This level of wariness by my security escort was ridiculous and was starting to annoy me, but, as I reminded myself yet again, it was a sight better than sitting in the brig behind an electrostatic forcefield. Apparently Troi felt my annoyance since she tried to deflect it.

“Well, Gothic,” she said, gesturing around the room with a small smile. “This is the holodeck. Judging by your excitement, I think you know what this is.”

“Yes, Counselor,” I replied. “Ever since I learned about it, I’ve been wanting to give it a test run.” Thankfully I had accessed numerous topics on the computer on the off chance I’d be confronted with things I knew from the show. That way I had an excuse for having the knowledge I did.

“I’m not surprised, most of the crew find this to be a wonderful tool for activities and relaxation that otherwise would be impossible onboard a starship. Let me show you some of things that you can do in here before I’ll return to my duties.”

It took a couple of a minutes, but I quickly got the hang of it. Like I said, the thing I was most worried about was doing something that could potentially blow up in my face. After Troi felt that I could figure the rest out on my own, she left, and I could swear she was swishing those hips just a bit more aggressively than previously when she walked out. She had to have felt my eyes on her ass, as well as the emotions that went with it.

Well, it was time to have some fun. It was practically my civic duty to live out the fantasies of millions and millions of people from my home dimension.

“Computer, I would like to get some exercise. What high intensity training programs are available?”

“Processing request,” the computer replied in a feminine monotone, sounding exactly like Majel Barrett, the voice of the computer from the Star Trek television shows. I’m sure Troi’s mother was around in this universe, had no one seriously realized how similar their voices were? “The following programs fit the parameters requested…”

After listening for several minutes, I learned that Worf had a pre-programmed calisthenics program. Something told me it would be right up my alley, so I requested it, but only after verifying it was not set to private, and suddenly the world changed around me entirely…

I was now in a series of damp underground caverns and tunnels that looked like they were dug out by crude hand tools… badly. Burning braziers and torches gave off a dim light and heat, filling the place with moving shadows. I was dressed like a Klingon warrior, with a bat’leth held in my right hand. A bat’leth is a large crescent shaped blade with another smaller crescent blade connected to the main one by four struts, leaving just the outer edges and the inner crescent as cutting/stabbing tools. The larger blade also had three integrated handles with which to hold it.

Taking a few practice swings with it, I was left unimpressed. While extremely cool looking, it was also quite possibly the dumbest weapon ever made in my opinion, at least from a functional standpoint. It was actually quite heavy, in comparison to other such weapons, which is pretty important when you may end up swinging it around for more than a few minutes in battle. It was unwieldy too and kind of awkward, unless you spent a ton of time training with it, being something like 4-5 feet long. Among its many faults is that its design prevents the proper application of leverage and force since its striking distance is rather small unless you are strong enough to wield it one-handed, which it really wasn’t designed to do, even if most Klingons were probably strong enough for that.

All in all, I think a regular sword was much more versatile and effective in just about every way – and don’t get me started on how it fared against a dude with just a hand phaser or disrupter, which was a very real match up in this time. A single guy with an energy pistol could probably hold off half a dozen bat’leth wielding Klingons. I developed this overall impression pretty quickly, because almost instantly a Klingon warrior with a bat’leth leaped out of the shadows of one of the tunnels and tried to kill me with one. I sidestepped the surprise attack and instantly turned around so that I could unartfully jam a pointy end into the Klingons head. Killing him made the body drop to the floor with a heavy thud, and leaving him as a weirdly bloodless corpse, which was strangely disappointing. Did Worf actually choose to not include realistic visible consequences to the bodies of his attackers? I quickly set that question aside as another attacker appeared to my right.

This pattern went on for about 5 minutes before I requested that the computer increase the program’s difficulty level. I now had to face two attackers, one usually appearing behind me. Even then it felt a bit easy since I was still stronger and faster than these holograms based on the physical abilities of Klingons. Slash, thrust, punch, kick – I fell into a nice combat rhythm slaying the Klingons like it was nothing. To even a semi-competent blade user, much less a master of the bat’leth, my form and style, if you could even call it that, probably looked like absolute shit. Nevertheless, it was effective; enhanced speed and strength had a way of overcoming such deficiencies in style and skill. I felt a bit like a dumb cave-man who had just discovered the potential of a wooden club as a killing tool, but I was quickly learning how to use my new body, finding out just what I could do with it, while slowly but surely improving my blade skills as I tried to feel out what felt more natural to me.

Before my awakening as an Augment, I had never been that interested in fighting, much less mortal combat, far more interested in building and repairing things. I had gotten into a couple of fights over the years, sure, but it was more the result of being a dumb teenager or getting drunk, than something I truly sought out. I had served as a combat engineer in the Army, though my time in Iraq had been very late in the game, as it were, and I had seen very little actual combat. While I certainly knew how to shoot a gun and some fighting styles thanks to basic training, a lot of my time had been spent in the green zone, and thus had avoided the more dangerous aspects of being a soldier deployed to first Iraq and then Afghanistan – which is why it was so strange to me that I was enjoying the hell out of this.

It was like I had just won the keys to a supercar and it was time to take it for a spin. Sure, I wasn’t driving this new supercar to its full potential, but I wasn’t crashing it either, and every minute driving saw a small, gradual, but cumulative increase in my driving skill. Feeling my body move, responding to my desires like a precision machine, was incredible. My muscles practically sang in purpose with each movement. I hadn’t even stretched before starting this program, but I felt no aches or pains as I dodged to the side to avoid a blade thrust. There was no pain in the knees (especially my bad left one) when crouching to slip under a slash. Just clean, exact, graceful movements, from a body that shouldn’t be capable of such things without a ton of daily vigorous exercise, training, preparation, and a lifestyle to match – it was glorious!

I got used to the new difficulty quickly and decided to ramp up the program’s difficulty level even more, but even then, was finding it a bit too easy, so I upped it one more time. The Klingons began to close the gap in skill and ability, making up in numbers what they couldn’t individually, the computer probably setting hard physiological limits for the Klingon species to keep it accurate. At this point there were five Klingons constantly trying to kill me, and avoiding their blades was getting tricky as killing one just summoned another. Eventually, I made a mistake, tripped on the growing piles of corpses in the area, which let one of those fuckers slash me open from my right hip to my left shoulder. This alerted me to two things. The first, Worf’s ‘calisthenics’ program had automatically turned the holodeck safeties off, which meant the slash had created a real wound. The second, was that it really fucking hurt!

Everything suddenly became sort of greyed out as the shot of adrenaline in my system triggered _something_ in me and I stopped holding back. Apparently, I went on a bit of psychotic killing spree, and I’m not sure when it would have ended since I no longer seemed capable of the rational thought necessary to simply order the computer to end the program. Luckily/unluckily, my killing rampage required the ship’s computer to use more and more processing resources to continue the program. I later learned that the rapid increase in computer resources being diverted to the holodeck processors had caught Geordi La Forge’s eye and he quickly decided to have someone investigate after the computer told him I was the only person present in the holodeck in question. He contacted Deanna, who for some reason hadn’t detected my descent into bloodlust, so when she did finally sense it as she approached, she burst into the holodeck without thinking (or sending in the guards) and nearly got accidentally skewered by yours truly, a now blood soaked, dead-eyed Augment, surrounded by several hundred dead holographic Klingons who had been cut down in so many interesting ways. Now, I’ll admit, it wasn’t my best look, especially since I was trying to convince everyone that I was nothing like the murderous Augment tyrants from the Eugenics Wars, but damned if I hadn’t had a good time pushing myself to the limit… at least once I regained control of myself.

“Gothic!” she yelled out, flinching away from the approaching weapon as I hadn’t stopped my forward momentum.

She had not even finished yelling out my name when my bat’leth went _past_ her head and hit the Klingon that had appeared behind her, preventing him from stabbing her in the back. Her entry into the holodeck mid-program had somehow designated her as a viable combatant, which didn’t fully make sense to me, but like I said, the holodeck was unpredictable as fuck. I wound up just in front of her, leaving us almost face to face, although our size difference forced her to look up at me (this version of Troi was about 5’7).

Deanna had turned as white as a sheet, whether from seeing me like this, feeling my emotions or lack of them, or realizing that she had nearly stupidly died in a holodeck, and thus was only barely able to stutter out, “Com… computer… end program.” The computer instantly complied and suddenly the two of us were once again standing in an empty black room with yellow orange grid lines on the wall. The bat’leth in my hands and the Klingon armor on me also disappeared when the program ended, leaving me covered in torn, bloody clothing and several mostly closed wounds that still bled just a bit, but even that was slowly decreasing as my enhanced body was restoring things back to normal.

We simply stared at each other for several long moments, her eyes locked on mine, her cheeks flushed and breath coming harder than normal, while several complex emotions played out on her face. The new hint of sweet and tangy I detected suggested that women in the 24th century were not so enlightened that a strong, virile, and masculine man capable of violence (and thus protecting them and their offspring from violence, at least from an evolutionary perspective) didn’t turn them on.

“Hey Deanna, what brings you by?” I asked cheerfully as I took a step back, emotion returning to my face.

Deanna gave me a dirty look before it slowly morphed into concern. “Gothic! You’re injured! Why weren’t the safety protocols on… oh no, you were using one of Worf’s programs. You need to get to sickbay right now.”

“That’s ok. I just need a shower - it looks much worse than it really is, I promise.” It really did, as without the constant motions required during combat, opening the wound yet again, the cuts were healing a lot faster than before and only the big slash wound on my chest was still weeping a bit. That said, I was really hungry, like I hadn’t eaten for a couple of days. Troi, however, wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer and practically dragged me to sickbay. I’m kind of surprised she didn’t call for a medical emergency and request a medical team come to our location, to be honest, but I decided to humor her and just went along with it. If that set her mind at ease, I was happy to accommodate her.

Returning to sickbay felt entirely unnecessary as far as I was concerned. Sure, I was still a bit sore, but it was a pleasant feeling after being inactive for so long. My wounds had finally fully stopped bleeding, and were practically healing before my eyes - this new body was _insane_. I suppose I could understand Troi’s concern, but I honestly felt like this trip was a bit of an overreaction. We hurried to sickbay, and I think this was the first time I got anything but negative looks from the passing crew – I half-seriously wondered how hurt I had to be for them to be happy to see me?

We walked through the doors and were instantly approached by Dr. Crusher while her nurse, the guy I had hurt before, hung back – at least he didn’t leave.

"What happened?" Beverly Crusher asked as she saw the blood and hustled over to me, medical tricorder in hand. "Did someone attack you?"

That required some explanation, though her concern was touching.

"I was trying out Worf's calisthenics program," I informed the doctor. "It… got a little… intense."

"No safety protocols?" Dr. Crusher asked me, clearly knowing the answer already. Worf probably came here regularly with similar injuries.

I nodded in reply. Truthfully, I hadn’t known the safety protocols were off until I was nearly cut in half. The crazy thing was that a truly lethal instant wound, like one of those holographic Klingons cutting my head off, could have killed me. I knew for a fact that I didn’t have the authority for such a thing, but Worf must have pre-programmed the safeties off for his program and as Security Chief and a senior officer onboard, could make that stick with the computer.

Dr. Crusher shook her head and had me remove my shirt and sit down on a biobed. She picked up a device that I hadn't seen before and waved it purposefully over the damaged parts of my body in slow sweeping arcs, finishing the healing process before setting it down.

"There won't be any scarring," she assured me with a small smile. Her long experience at setting her injured patients at ease was apparent, no matter how unneeded it was in this particular case. She then picked up another device and began holding it over the other already closing wounds, a visible energy field soon being emitted by the device. I figured that this device was the one that would heal the wounds, or speed up healing in the affected area, and what she had used before had been something to prevent infection or to find out how much damage there actually was in the first place. That made some sense, you wouldn't want to seal up a wound if it wasn't clean already.

Counselor Troi suddenly received a comm request and was called back to the bridge. She left, promising to check in on me later. We all said our goodbyes and Dr. Crusher turned back to look at me as Troi walked out. Like a magnet, my eyes remained stuck to that perfect ass until she left.

"Dermal regenerator," Dr. Crusher explained to me once I focused back on her. I could have sworn I saw a slight frown on her lips. "It can heal simple injuries, but they won't do anything for the pain… would you like something for that?"

Maybe it had been the adrenaline or my body somehow regulated the pain so I wasn’t overly distracted by it, but the hurt was actually pretty minor and already fading.

"No, I'll be fine," I assured her.

"As an Augment you have enhanced healing," Dr. Crusher explained, a serious look in her eyes, "but that doesn't make you immortal. Remember that, Gothic, it may save your life one day."

I took her warning to heart, though it wasn’t like I had deluded myself into actually thinking I was immortal – almost ageless, maybe, immortal, _hell no_. While my enhancements certainly made me harder to kill, it would take a lot more damage than I had just gotten for me to get really worried about dying… and yet, if I had received a similar injury in my original body, I would be in very bad shape for weeks as I healed naturally, and yet here I was, hale and hearty.

"Well doc, I'm more than three hundred and fifty years old," I reminded the beautiful red head, which was true at least from a strict calendar perspective. "I bet you won't find many people that look this good at my advanced age," I joked, sending her an over-the-top wink.

"You aren't even the oldest person on this ship, Gothic, even with your time in stasis," Dr. Crusher informed me, a small smile on her lips. "And if you want to get any older, you'll have to be a little more careful. Keep in mind, fast healing also means it could heal incorrectly, if not taken care of quickly enough. A bone that heals incorrectly would need to be rebroken, for example."

“Don’t worry about me, doc,” I said, getting up. “Whoever changed me built me to last.”

Dr. Crusher appeared to be lost in thought, or at least that’s what I first figured when I saw her staring intently at my chest. At first I thought she was focused on the blood smear, but when I accidentally flexed my hard pecs and she unconsciously darted her tongue out to wet her lips, I think it finally hit me. I took a few deep inhales to pick up the scents in the room to confirm my suspicion, and wow… something about me and my current condition really got the good doctor’s juices flowing right now. I don’t know if it was my physique or the pheromones or the combat proficiency I obviously possessed, or maybe it was just that she hadn’t been with anyone in a while, but she was attracted to me something _fierce_.

Dr. Crusher put her hand over my heart and lightly touched my chest, seemingly unconsciously.

“Gothic…” she said slowly. “Why don’t I give you a _physical_ … in my office… right now… over there…in private.”

I gave her a grin that let her know I wasn’t fooled, but happily consented to this ‘physical’. Since I had been discharged already, I suppose I was no longer her patient.

“Sure, doc,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Dr. Crusher walked me to her office like she wasn’t sure if she was going to go through with this or not. But when she turned to see me just behind her, a look of lust in my eyes, apparently, she had decided it was worth it after all. I stepped into the room and was barely able to brace myself as she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me, hard. In the privacy of my mind I was jumping for joy, while outwardly I played it cool. This Christina Hendricks lookalike was grinding her body against me and those plump kissable lips I had looked at several times were now mine.

Stopping for a brief moment, I spoke aloud to the room, not knowing if this would actually work, “Computer, activate patient privacy mode.” At my command the door was locked, the room windows darkened, and some kind of noise cancelling field turned on changing the overall acoustics of the room. It had been a shot in the proverbial dark, but presumably a Doctor on a starship may need to have private conversations with patients and that might require some electronic help to ensure the patient’s privacy was assured.

Her look of appreciation and smile at my forethought to protect her reputation told me she was very pleased. Being viewed as a considerate and discreet lover would hopefully ensure a repeat performance and favorable gossip among the females on the ship. And don’t let anybody tell you different, women were even worse gossips when it came to their sex lives (with other women) than men were.

We spent the next few minutes thoroughly exploring each other’s mouth, our tongues dueling each other. My hands pulled her close, slipping under the waistband of her pants and panties and grabbing a handful of firm ass, kneading it roughly with my enhanced strength. Her moans of pleasure at how forceful I was being with her signaled loud and clear that she was a fan of this treatment, so I kept it up.

My left hand left her panties and went into her beautiful red curls. Threading my fingers tightly, I strongly massaged the back of her head, deepening the kiss, before I pulled her head semi-sharply to the side, exposing her neck. Her surprised moan intensified as I attacked her neck, my kisses and lips sucking on her pulse point in time with her heartbeat.

Her reaction to my rough treatment proved a theory I had. Dr. Crusher was a devastatingly sexy and beautiful woman, but she was also the Chief Medical Officer and part of the senior staff aboard Starfleet’s flagship. Even on a ship which over a thousand people called home, her safe options for a casual sexual relationship were likely extremely limited. I, on the other hand, was a handsome, sexy, powerful and mysterious Augment, a civilian in every sense, who likely wouldn’t even be on the ship all that long. I was also someone who wouldn’t be intimidated by her high position or reputation or be willing to defer to her, even in this sexual situation. This was a woman who I suspected wanted a strong man to take charge for once, to let her just be a beautiful and sexy woman about to be fucked, rather than a mother, Starfleet officer, doctor, and department head.

While I was busy driving her crazy kissing her neck, she had reached down to open my pants and fished out my already rock-hard cock, I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to end this day disappointed with blue balls.

Glancing down to my cock in her hands, a moment or two of shocked awe ensued at my new porn star cock.

“Do you think you can handle that, doc?” I asked, a challenging tone in my voice.

Dr. Crusher immediately fell to her knees and took me deeply into her mouth, as if to prove me wrong, her tongue working overtime. Overachieving women were so easy to rile up. She wasn’t the most experienced at blowjobs, but damned if she wasn’t eager, passionate, and willing to please. It had to have been a while for her, but she still managed to get me going. After a couple of minutes of sloppy cock sucking, I decided to move onto the main event. I had considered grabbing her face and fucking it, but that might have been a bit much for this first time. I somehow had this certain feeling that I could go as long as I wanted and cum practically on command. It was mighty strange and a rather significant contrast with my other sexual experiences.

“I think it’s time I returned the favor,” I said. Pulling her up and I sat her down on the edge of her office desk. I slowly grasped her waistband, giving her time to stop me, but kept going when she didn’t. I pulled her pants down, then got between those thighs, my mouth just inches away from her panty-clad pussy. The panties were soaked through, and her delightful scent filled the room even stronger than before, sweety and tangy.

“Please, Gothic…” she said, almost pushing her neatly trimmed cunt into my face.

“Don’t worry, doc,” I replied. “I won’t make you beg… _this time_.”

I finally pulled down her panties and was faced with a well-maintained bush over the prettiest pussy I had seen in a long time. Her tiny clitoris was sticking out and the lips were covered in her juices, signaling she was extremely turned on right now. I bowed my head forward and got to work, tasting her, licking my way up and down her thighs and sucking on her clit. My enhanced physiology seemed to include much greater control of the four muscles in my tongue because I was pulling some truly epic shit, stuff I had never managed before, including high speed vibration, which was almost certainly impossible previously. Her scream of surprise when I figured out that trick had been loud as fuck. My enhanced memory also meant I had perfect recall of every little (and big) reaction of hers, building a list of things that worked and didn’t work specific to her body.

I added some gentle finger penetration which brought her right to the very edge of orgasm before backing off, enjoying the moans and groans coming from the usually collected and stern doctor, before going back for more and doing it again. She finally couldn’t take it anymore because she soon pulled me up, almost desperate to get me to stick my cock inside her, her legs wrapped tightly around my hips. I wasn’t having any of that, so my left hand wrapped itself around her throat and gently squeezed, showing her who exactly was in control, and gently increasing her arousal via the light asphyxiation and the show of dominance, placing several gentle kisses on her lips. There was no way in hell I was going to have this end without getting my hands and mouth on those huge perky tits, so with my right hand I pulled up her shirt forcefully and freed those puppies for my touch. My fingers were soon playing with her nipples, which I quickly learned were quite sensitive, before lowering my mouth to them and taking them in my mouth. I switched back and forth for a while, her moans sounding like sweet music in my ears.

Standing straight I moved my left hand that had been around her throat to the back of her neck. “Do you want me to fuck this pretty pussy, doc?”

“Yes, yes, please, Gothic, don’t make me wait any longer!” she begged.

“Put me inside.” With that she reached down and took my now 10-inch cock and pressed it against her soaking wet pussy.

In one fluid motion I sheathed myself inside her, stretching her tight pussy to accommodate me. Her scream practically echoed off the walls and made me extremely thankful that I had had the foresight to activate the office’s privacy settings lest someone think that I had attacked the woman.

I hadn’t had sex for over 200 years and this beautiful woman and her hot, wet, and extremely tight pussy was straining even my Augment control over my body, so I gripped those hips tightly and started a hard and fast rhythm right from the get go. I rotated my hips continuously, cataloging every tiny reaction in my mind before finding her g-spot and hammering that spot over and over again before changing my rhythm for a bit, then returning, drawing sweet gasps from her rosebud lips.

Just like when I had first awakened in this new body, the sensations I was feeling were far more intense than anything I’d ever felt before during sex in my old life. It was beyond description. I could get addicted to this.

When I felt her reaching the edge, I released my bruising grip on her hips (whoops), her legs still wrapped tightly around my hips, and grabbed both her nipples and roughly tweaked them as we both came at the same time. My hands returned to her hips, as I pulled her tight against me as I grunted and released my cum deep inside her. She screamed like a banshee as she came. It was a beautiful moment, which is why it was probably the worst possible moment for her son, Wesley Crusher, to walk in on us, both of us mostly undressed, my cock still fully inside her pussy, her heaving tits pressing tightly against my chest.

Like a bad sitcom, Wesley’s face seemed like it went through an exaggerated pantomime of several emotions before culminating in an embarrassed and outraged, “Mom!” and we could only watch him run out before either of us could say anything. I would imagine the doctor had given her son access rights to her office in the past and that had overridden the privacy seal.

“Oh dear,” she said with a sigh and a giggle, still coming down from her orgasmic high, a smile still plastered on her face, but obviously quite embarrassed too. “I better go after him. I wish I could have introduced you under better circumstances.”

“Yeah, me too,” I said, wondering what the chances were for the kid to have walked in at that _exact_ moment. At least it wasn’t before we both came, or when I was face deep in the woman’s pussy. Ah well. I thought about offering my help in finding Wesley, but considering that he had caught the two of us together and I was being followed by two guards, I figured the good doctor might want to handle this quietly, and my presence would make that impossible.

Crusher got up and tried to make herself presentable, before giving up on that and deciding to put on a spare uniform she had. The office had a small bathroom and sonic shower that she used to clean herself up and get dressed again. Her calm, methodical movements were seemingly at odds with the almost possessed way she had acted before I popped her cork like a champ. She looked mighty Zen now.

I had cleaned myself up and gotten dressed as well, putting on a newly created shirt I pulled out of the replicator. I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her from behind, my lips kissing the side of her neck in a spot I had already identified she really liked.

“You know, I’m not going to be long on the _Enterprise_ ,” I said gently. “I can’t promise you a relationship or even fidelity,” I continued, making sure we were looking in each other’s eyes in the mirror. “All I can be is your friend… with benefits.”

The smile Crusher wore made it clear she felt the same way, knowing the score from the get go, before replying, “Thank you for your honesty. We’ll just have to enjoy what time we have together.”

I nodded, and turned her around so I could kiss her hard again, our hands exploring each other once again. After a moment, we separated, and left the bathroom. Crusher put her doctor’s coat back on, and like a switch had been flipped, she was Dr. Crusher again.

“So, Dr. Crusher,” I asked, with a smile on my lips, “how’d I do on my physical?”

I caught a naughty glint in her eyes as she slowly looked me up and down. I got the impression that if she didn’t need to go find Wesley, we would be engaging in round 2 with a round 3 soon after. The woman was passionate and insatiable.

“You passed with flying colors, Gothic,” she answered huskily. “We might need to continue the examination later, though, to ensure consistent results… and please, call me Beverly.”

“Looking forward to it… Beverly,” I said. I waited for her to walk in front of me and said, “After you, Beverly,” before we both stepped out into the hallway, acting like nothing unusual had happened. Hopefully Wesley would keep his mouth shut. I had a feeling gossip traveled on this ship at warp fucking 10.

With one last nod, she turned left and began walking away, her hand already reaching for her comm badge to ask the computer exactly where Wesley was.

I turned back to my guards, and said, “OK boys, looks like nothing’s falling off today. How about we go back to my quarters?”

Without waiting for a response, I turned to the right and began walking towards the turbolift. I couldn’t help humming, “I just had sex, and it felt so good” by the Lonely Island under my breath – maybe a little juvenile, but it’s not every day you essentially lose your virginity for the second time. 

And man, oh man, what a revelation it was. It was night and day different from my life before. The enhanced body control meant I could have probably gone for hours and cum on command…and the intense sensations were insane. The enhanced memory meant I had perfect recall of every little reaction of my partner and could tailor my every move for maximum effect. The enhanced mind somehow also meant enhanced intuition, because I somehow picked up on Beverly’s desire for a dominant lover relatively quickly. Thank God that had panned out or things would have gotten awkward, fast. The fact that I pulled off that dominance so easily, something I had never done before, was a bit surprising too. What was even more surprising, though, was just how much I liked it.

Every day brought new revelations as to exactly what it meant to be an Augment.

**XXXXX**

**Deck 7. U.S.S. _Enterprise_.**

We had just stepped into the turbolift when a ship-wide alert went out. A prisoner had just escaped during transport off the ship and was being chased by security. While my guards didn’t say anything, I could practically sense their tension rise, something I didn’t expect from Vulcans. The turbolift had continued to move way past where I thought we should have gotten off, like its destination had been overridden remotely. Eventually, we arrived at deck 36 and my two guards told me to remain inside the lift while they checked out what was going on. They had just stepped out when a large purple being ran by, knocked them aside without stopping, just yelling out in a husky, but identifiably feminine voice, “Out of my way!”

I quickly left the turbolift to check on the guards to confirm that they were alright, with just the wind knocked out of them – good thing they were Vulcans, a very hardy species overall, or they could have gotten seriously hurt. I tore after her, following her scent like a bloodhound. Her smell was very odd, like that of a blooming rose that had been mixed with the metallic aftertaste of dried blood. As I ran after her, I mentally tried to examine it more, expecting fear. Frankly, I was a bit confused because while I knew what fear smelled like now, she wasn’t emitting anything even close. On the contrary, other than her natural scent, some body odor given the physical exertion, and that of the damaged armor, I had nothing else from her. Whoever this alien woman was, she wasn’t panicking or hesitating - instead, she was as cool as a cucumber, which meant she was used to situations like this, which suggested a lot of training and experience in combat, which meant I had better be careful or I would get my Augment ass handed to me.

I found her scent trail led into the Jeffries tubes (the maintenance tunnels that ran all over the ship) and entered after her. I could just hear her crawling somewhere ahead of me. What really alarmed me was that I recognized the rhythmic, ground-eating pace she was using (even while crawling through the tube) as similar to the one drilled in to me when I was in army basic training. It was at this point I began to finally pay attention to the mental alarms that had been blaring inside my head since I had begun following her: specifically that I was unarmed, chasing what was looking more and more like a highly-trained special forces operator, in the bowels of a starship that I didn’t truly owe any duty to, especially a duty as potentially dangerous as this. In fact, they’d probably tell me that I had no business getting involved at all! And they’d be right!

Still, all my new stuff was here and I couldn’t have her break things and people without consequences. One could also hope that protecting the ship from such a dangerous person like this might also improve my reputation with the ship’s officers.

I picked up the pace and started to gain on her. I must have pinged on her threat radar enough to merit an immediate response as she was ready for me and I almost got my head knocked off my shoulders for my trouble as she gracefully twisted around with her fist at the ready when I finally got close enough. My enhanced speed and reflexes meant I was able to duck and counter just in time, getting a fist of my own in position to punch her _hard_ in her undefended side, which was the last freebie I got. She let out a sharp grunt of pain and turned fully toward me, now taking me very seriously and giving me her full attention before attacking like a cornered animal.

It was at this point that I really felt the significant difference between fighting a computer-generated opponent and the real deal. The real deal, in this case, was a highly trained flesh and blood being that could be unpredictable as fuck and adapt to all my moves. Holo-opponents have a certain rhythm to them that you can get used to and anticipate no matter how random it appears on the surface. With a sentient opponent, on the other hand, with real stakes on the line, fighting for their lives, there can be real randomness added that changes the way the fight progresses every second. My previous military hand-to-hand training had been mostly grappling and submission maneuvers and that limitation was now going to be a problem. Fuck, I really should spend some time on the holodeck learning some martial arts.

My fight with the Klingons had been with blades and hadn’t exactly been fair in the first place, as I was both faster and stronger than them – but while I was still faster and stronger than my opponent, that seemed to be my only advantage as she had a longer reach, knew how to better apply her strength, had extensive martial training, and obviously possessed a great deal of actual combat experience. I managed to hold her off for maybe half a minute before she was able to land a couple of very heavy blows that drove me back. If I had still been in my pre-Augment body, I’m absolutely sure that my arms and ribs would have been broken or shattered several times over by now. Strangely enough, despite what had been an intensely brutal fight so far, I got the impression that she hadn’t truly been trying to kill or maim me, at least at first, instead trying to disable me with minimal injury. When I hadn’t gone down as expected, though, she had escalated the strength of her blows. It was a level of adaptability I had only seen before in truly professional black ops soldiers, masters of warfare.

“Huh. Looks like the Federation has enhanced soldiers of their own,” she said. “I figured that that counselor had been lying to me about that. How did you even track me? My life signs should not have shown up on your sensors.”

That statement shocked me, but maybe it shouldn’t have given the martial skill and experience I’d seen so far. This alien woman had correctly deduced, from just 30 seconds of fighting, that I was an enhanced human, quite different from baseline humanity, and that I had somehow tracked her without technology.

“I’m not exactly standard issue, a bit of a unique oddity really. And I followed your scent,” I shot back, deciding to skip my convoluted backstory for the moment, and getting my first real glimpse of her. The alien female in front of me was 7’5” tall; had dark purple skin covered in blue, vaguely Celtic-looking tattoos; bluish-green hair (cut short in a military style); and her eyes currently resembled a feline’s, with a black line for a pupil and a faintly glowing electric blue iris surrounding it. Her ears were slightly longer and thinner than a Vulcan’s, and stuck out the sides of the head, swiveling back and forth like a predator animal to pick up sound. Her face actually reminded me of a purple Rosario Dawson – alluring, but somehow aggressive. Her body was the ultimate balance between fitness model and weight-lifter – a curvy hour-glass shaped figure, mixed with a strong musculature with which I could easily believe could crush a skull in one hand or bend metal rebar for fun. I’ll admit that I temporarily became distracted by her heaving chest, because she was built like a brick house, with a pair of some of the biggest, firmest, bounciest breasts I had ever seen. I swear that each one was the size of my head!

She let out an annoyed snort, possibly detecting my rather lustful evaluation of her body, which brought me back from la-la land. I was lucky she hadn’t attacked me while I was distracted by her exotic looks. All in all, she looked like a jacked-up Night-elf from the Warcraft series, dressed in something from the Mad Max movies, and I was sure that someone like her had never been in a canon episode of TNG. Even with my poor memories, pre-Augment status, I’d remember a chick this exotic looking.

“Who are you?” I asked, “And what are you doing here?”

I’m not sure why she was still talking to me since she was a fugitive and ship security was after her, but maybe she felt some sort of kinship with me as we were both enhanced and warriors of sorts, different from the rest of our respective races.

“My name is Roga Danar,” she answered. “I just escaped from the Lunar Five prison when the _Enterprise_ interfered. I won’t go back – the government calls it a ‘colony’, but really, it’s just a prison for those they want to ignore, to forget, instead of helping. Be careful or one day you’ll end up on a Lunar Five of your own.”

So, she did feel some kinship with me. Her name was familiar, as was the name of the colony, but something wasn’t quite right about what I was hearing. As for me ending up in prison just for being an Augment, that was already something I feared.

“What is the name of your world?” I asked, needing more information to finally get the puzzle pieces to fit.

“You call it Angosia III.”

Well, boom – there it is. I finally remembered where I had heard these names before. They were from a TNG episode called ‘The Hunted’… but that couldn’t be right. For one thing, if I remembered correctly, all this should have happened months ago, and already been resolved. For another, Roga Danar had been a regular looking man on the show, very human looking with just a small blue tattoo on the left side of the face between the eye and ear – certainly not a purple and sexy Night Elf/She-Hulk that towered over me by almost a foot.

The gist of the episode had been that the _Enterprise_ was on a mission to visit with a civilization called the Angosians, who had been rapidly recovering after a war, and had petitioned for Federation membership. At first, it seemed like the Angosians were tailor-made to become members, but then a prisoner escaped from the planet’s lunar colony and the Angosians asked the _Enterprise_ for help in capturing him.

The _Enterprise_ succeeded in tracking him down with the ship’s superior sensor technology, but that’s when the rotten core of the Angosians was revealed. It turned out that the Angosians had been unable to fight the war properly, because, like the Federation, they had neutered themselves into a virtually pacifist society that only focused on cultural advancement… so when war finally reached their world, the Angosians had taken volunteers and had them go through extensive genetic engineering, chemical manipulation, and psychological conditioning to make them into perfect and deadly soldiers capable of fighting against the oncoming threat, a threat they couldn’t fight against themselves.

After the war was won and over, Danar and the other enhanced soldiers attempted to integrate back into Angosian society. With no attempt to reverse their conditioning, the soldiers quickly became violent at the slightest provocation. A referendum over their future was held, and they were subsequently relocated to the [penal settlement](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Penal_settlement) [Lunar V](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Lunar_V) where they were well fed and comfortable, but were unable to leave. It later came out in the episode that part of the reason for the government not even attempting to return them to normal was that ‘they might be needed again.’ What a massive burning pile of diseased dicks. Danar was supposed to escape the _Enterprise_ in canon, return to the colony to pick up a couple of friends, go on to lead an attack on the capital, and hopefully then force the government to finally help its veterans with the _Enterprise_ leaving the system, letting the Angosians settle their own internal affairs. The question of Federation membership was put on hold while the Angosians figured this out.

Perhaps this wasn’t the best time, but I couldn’t help but wonder why this event was happening _now_ , just in time for me to be on the _Enterprise_. Perhaps this was yet another example of a growing list of differences between this universe and that of the TV shows, but I had the sneaking suspicion that this event was actually a manipulation by my patron or another ROB. That felt right, for some reason. This cemented in my mind that future events were not set in stone, not in the canon timeline and not how they were resolved in canon.

So far, my foreknowledge was almost entirely good in terms of the broad strokes, if not necessarily the exact timing or in the fine details, like how Dr. Crusher or Roga Danar looked. I suppose I should have felt outraged that I was being manipulated, like a marionette on strings for some uber powerful God-like being’s amusement, but considering that everything my patron had done up until now had been to my extreme benefit and that they had been mostly been hands-off otherwise – I could live with it. In any case, I needed to focus back on the present - Danar was giving me a strange look, probably because I had zoned out for a bit.

“Sorry about that. Right. If you want to get off the ship you’re going to have to disable the external sensors and get to a transporter. If you get into the shuttle bay, they may use gas to try and knock you out, so you’ll want to pick up a pressure suit. There should be one there.”

Due to the Angosian Augment’s enhancements, her life signs couldn’t be detected by the _Enterprise’s_ scanners, so Danar still likely had just enough time to escape and finish the episode the way it had before, even with my brief delay. I was tempted to ask how she was able to pull off her sensor trick, but there was no more time and it was entirely possible that she didn’t even know how it had been done.

“Why are you helping me?” she asked in suspicion, which I couldn’t blame her for.

“Let’s just say that I can sympathize with a fellow _enhanced_ , one whom the rest of her race looks at with fear and suspicion, and leave it at that. Give me a nice punch in the face to make it bloody and get going. Look me up someday if you ever want to get away from this place. Maybe we’ll meet again under better circumstances. Good luck.”

Without any hesitation at all, she socked me in the left temple and I hit the side of the Jeffries tube hard enough to damage the bulkhead itself and leave a bloody gash on my head.

“Go…” I said and she began to run, not even looking back. I decided to take a moment and just sit there, acting as disoriented as possible, hoping that this would be enough to sell the deception. That really had been a good punch though, and maybe resting a little would make the world stop from spinning. Incredibly, the whole exchange had taken less than two minutes.

Not long after Danar had left, my two guards, Tweedledee and Tweedledum showed up. They helped get me up and we walked back to the turbolift. We had to wait a couple of minutes before Danar managed to escape, but once she had, the turbolift system became functional again and I was taken to sickbay yet again. Good thing I liked Dr. Crusher or coming here so often would have been getting annoying. As it was, she still wasn’t back from dealing with Wesley, so the only people there was a doctor I had never met before and the same male nurse that I had injured, go figure. I had forgotten about him while Beverly and I had been otherwise _engaged_ , and figured this was the time to try and make nice.

I made several attempts to start up a friendly conversation with this guy during my examination, but the nurse ignored them all. Guess he wasn’t going to be a fan after all. Ah well. I tried.

By this time, I had already healed up and the on-call Doctor told me to return to my quarters, get some rest, and contact Dr. Crusher if I had any symptoms of a concussion. I agreed, and was quickly allowed to leave sickbay. Well, I had stuff to do back at my place so I headed there, with my two guards trailing after me in what was slowly becoming a familiar routine.

**XXXXX**

**Guest Quarters. U.S.S. _Enterprise_.**

As soon as I got inside, I began to strip down and put my blood-splattered clothes in the replicator for recycling so that I could get fresh versions. I then took a sonic shower and afterwards grabbed a bite to eat, this time a 32-ounce Japanese Kobe beef steak, with rosemary salt and garlic butter, parmesan Tuscan mushrooms and French fries. In my time a steak cut like that would have been easily $200 and up just for the meat itself, but here it was just a replicator order away. The food was very tasty and filling, but I noticed that it was just a little off from what I remembered, like the seasoning wasn’t quite right or something like that. All replicated food that I had tasted so far had this semi-sterile taste that needed a little bit of time to get used to. As soon as I was done and had recycled the dishes and utensils back into the replicator, I decided to go over some things that had been bothering me all day now.

The first was why hadn’t Troi felt my emotional change till she had gotten physically close to me? On the show, Troi’s empathic power was capable of reaching out into space and feeling the emotions of people on other nearby starships – how could she not have noticed me getting that angry? That didn’t make sense. Was I somehow protected or shielded from long-range empathic detection? What about telepathy? Would a telepath learn I had knowledge of future events? Something weird was going on here, but for obvious reasons I couldn’t test this theory. I’d have to table it for now.

The second thing was Roga Danar’s radical difference in appearance. I decided to look up what this universe’s version of the Angosian race typically looked like and wasn’t all that surprised to find that they looked like Danar, but much thinner, shorter, and lighter skinned. They were a beautiful race, in my opinion, and were still visibly humanoid enough that they still fit in with the narrative introduced in the TNG episode ‘The Chase’. That episode was the writers’ attempt to explain why it seemed (except for some minor cosmetic differences) most of the aliens encountered on the show were humanoid, instead of say, something that looks like a walking pink jellyfish/octopus hybrid, or a man-sized space spider. In the very rare occasions where more exotic alien species did appear, they were rarely seen ever again, as the money spent on building and maintaining puppets or using computer generated images (CGI) was usually better spent on bigger visual effects extravaganzas like large fleet battles. This universe apparently had a similar backstory, specifically that an ancient and incredibly powerful humanoid race, called the Preservers, had seeded many worlds throughout the galaxy with their DNA, hoping that the lifeforms that would develop would be similar to their own and they would no longer be alone. In any case, I still wasn’t sure why Danar was specifically an incredibly beautiful woman – not that I was complaining – though I did have my suspicions.

Out of curiosity, I decided to take a look at what Kivas Fajo had looked like to see if he had matched my memory from the show. Fajo was a Zibalian, and the TV show version pretty much looked human as well, with just a slight cosmetic difference in the nose, and had been portrayed by the actor, Saul Rubinek. This universe’s version resembled the original concept version, of someone that looked like a goblin mixed with a satyr, as would have been portrayed by David Rappaport if he hadn’t dropped out.

My thoughts returned to the oddness surrounding the Roga Danar encounter. It was quite a coincidence that my turbolift had moved across the entire ship and deposited me just at the right moment to intercept Danar. Was it a glitch, or a further manipulation by my mysterious patron, or simply fate? I wasn’t sure. Assuming it was my patron, what had been the point? Was it just to meet Danar? To give me a warning about the Federation possibly turning on me? To allow me to meet a fellow enhanced? To show me that I needed to learn how to fight because I would not be able to overcome every opponent with just how much stronger or faster I was now? Maybe all of the above? Speculating endlessly like this was getting exhausting and I suspected I would never know the answer to these questions.

The third thing was that I would need to get my hands on some body armor with some sort of energy shield component or research and develop it myself. While I should heal quickly from melee weapons, I wonder how much worse it could have been if I had decided to use a holoprogram where the safeties had been off and the enemies had fired modern phasers or replica machine guns. Even a holographic bullet can kill, as the movie Star Trek: First Contact had proven when Picard had used the holodeck to kill a Borg drone. Even my badass Augment body probably wouldn’t have survived a bullet to the head. To top it all off, I had been seriously lucky that my arrogance hadn’t gotten me killed when I had decided to go after Danar. If she had used a phaser set to kill on me or I had fun afoul of a lethal trap she had set up, it could have easily ended with me blown to pieces… something I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have survived. In many ways I was akin to a superhuman, but _Superman_ I was not. I was far from unkillable, hence why body armor was a necessity. Just another thing to add to my long list of things I needed to do…

I decided to hit the books again, spending the next few hours trying to complete the education every Federation citizen did as children. Several hours after starting, I could feel the impulse engines begin to move the ship. If all had gone well, then Danar and her fellow veterans had had their showdown with the Angosian government that forced them to acknowledge their existence and their right to freedom. They were never mentioned again on the show, so I had zero foreknowledge at to what happened after or if they were even successful, but part of me hoped it ended without more suffering or bloodshed. The veterans had been through enough, and maybe they would finally get the help they deserved from the government and society that had created them and then, when the war was over and won, discarded them.

I had just gotten back into the swing of things when I was interrupted by the comm system.

“Troi to Gothic,” she said.

“Gothic here,” I replied. “Go ahead.”

“Captain Picard has requested to meet with you, are you available to come to his ready room?”

“Of course,” I answered eagerly. Not only would this give me my first glimpse of the bridge, but going inside the actual captain’s ready room – nerdgasm!

With that, Troi arranged for my security escort and we set out for the bridge.

**XXXXX**

**The Bridge. U.S.S. _Enterprise_.**

Stepping onto the _Enterprise’s_ bridge in real life was a surreal experience. I couldn’t help but examine everything. Frankly, if they had let me, I could have spent hours just observing one of the most iconic sets in science fiction history. The bridge was shaped like an oval with the back section slightly raised about midway, with ramps on two sides connecting it to the lower level. The raised and wider section is for the tactical operations, engineering, and several science stations. The middle part contains three chairs - the one in the middle for the captain, the one on the right for the first officer, and the left usually for the counselor, but could also be used by high-ranking officials like visiting diplomats or admirals or guests to the bridge. Just beyond these were the dual helm stations, essentially the ship’s pilot stations. At the very front of the room was the main viewscreen for the ship, essentially a gigantic monitor that was primarily used to display the space around the ship, but could also be used for any communications. Behind the bridge was the equally famous observation lounge or conference lounge, where the ship’s senior officers would often meet to discuss matters both big and small, but I didn’t get a chance to see it this time. Completing this area was the captain’s ready room, which was on the left side, a place where the Captain could work in private but be only a few steps away from the bridge if needed.

While not my favorite bridge layout, it was still awesome to be in here; this place was iconic. Even the tactically stupid location at the very top of the ship (and thus vulnerable to attack and taking out the ship’s command crew mid-battle) and having a skylight, of all things, didn’t detract from my enjoyment being in such a famous place. The guards lead me down the ramp towards the ready room, allowing me to see that Riker was currently in command, with Data sitting in one of the helm positions. Troi’s seat was empty, as she was probably with the captain in the ready room. The rest of the positions were filled with random crew members that I didn’t recognize from the show. It would have been impossible for a ship this size to only be manned by the senior officers, after all. Of course, there would have to be many, many officers to work the various shifts 24 hours a day. People had days off, even in the future.

Worf was nearly identical in appearance to his show version, i.e. the actor Michael Dorn in season 3 and later heavy makeup and prosthetics. He stared at me intently as I passed by, almost as if he was expecting me to take this opportunity to try and take over the ship – that probably explained the extra security personnel positioned around the room. Worf wasn’t a bad person, he was just a bit of an asshole, so I decided to ignore him.

Commander Riker was almost an exact copy of the actor who played him on TV, Jonathon Frakes. He was a bit more in shape than his show counterpart, and without the slight slouch that Frakes had due to his bad back. He also didn’t appear to like me very much because he was rather cool towards me, practically ignoring the guards and myself as we walked by… ah well.

I gave Data a half-wave, and he nodded at me congenially. With that, I pressed the button indicating I was there and waited at the door till I heard a “come” from within, and entered the ready room alone, my guards apparently not needed inside.

**XXXXX**

**Captain’s Ready Room. U.S.S. _Enterprise_.**

The _Enterprise_ -D’s ready room wasn’t as grand as I had imagined, just a desk, a small couch, a couple of chairs, a small aquarium, and a couple of models/statues of previous ships that had been named _Enterprise_. Everything looked comfortable, but not overly fancy. It was still elegant, but Picard obviously hadn’t been going for gaudy or ostentatious in his private office. In fact, it was virtually identical to the version seen on the show.

Captain Picard was sitting quietly behind his desk, with Troi sitting in one of the guest chairs, her back to me. Picard looked very similar to Patrick Stewart, except somehow younger looking, but thankfully still with his shiny bald head. I really hadn’t known what to expect, but Picard appearing more youthful was in line with my expectations and the various canon characters I’d already seen around the ship so far. 24th century medicine had come a long, long way and that meant humans could expect a much longer life, on average, and appear younger for much longer as well. I even remember season 1, episode 2 of TNG when Dr. McCoy, Kirk’s Chief Medical Officer, showed up at the start of the new series. The man was still alive and walking around at 137 years old!

To my great delight, Picard was still bald. At one of the first press conferences for TNG, a reporter had famously asked Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry about casting Patrick Stewart, commenting something to the effect that ‘Surely by the 24th century, they would have found a cure for male pattern baldness.’ Gene Roddenberry had the perfect response when he answered, ‘No, by the 24th century, no one will care.’ I always loved that idea. In this case, I would imagine there were simple treatments available, but Picard had simply kept it natural. I rather liked that. It might be ironic for an Augment to think that way, but that’s how I felt.

Troi turned toward me and gave me a welcoming smile – apparently, she had detected my strange mix of strong emotions and was trying to comfort me or calm me somehow. The more analytical part of my mind suggested that since Troi could currently feel my emotions, when I was in her direct presence, that something was preventing her empathic abilities from working on me at range. That was very useful to know. Was she unaware of that? I nodded at her, and gave my full attention to the captain.

Picard was everything I had imagined him to be. He had this cool, commanding, and charismatic presence that made the very best leaders, ones who could inspire people with their very presence.

“Hello, Gothic,” he said. “I felt it was long past time that we were introduced. Please, sit.”

“Thank you, Captain. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said, sitting down in the empty guest chair next to Troi.

“I do apologize that we are only meeting now,” he said, “but my duties as captain have kept me rather busy these past several days. Have you had any difficulties in settling in?”

“My quarters are great, Captain, very comfortable,” I answered. “Thank you very much for your hospitality. As for settling into this time, well, that’s a work in progress.”

“Splendid, very good,” he said. “Now, to business. Gothic, I asked for this meeting because Dr. Crusher has completed her tests and determined that you are indeed not native to this universe,” he solemnly spoke. “Unfortunately, we are unable to determine at this time where you do come from. Furthermore, even if we could, our technology has not advanced sufficiently to allow for dimensional travel. No, I’m afraid you may need to call this universe your new home.”

He paused to let me consider what he had just said. I’ll admit, a part of me had wondered what I would have done if the _Enterprise_ had found a way to get me back to my home dimension, but I suppose that was a moot point now. I focused back on the present, and met the captain’s eyes.

“I appreciate your candor, Captain, and for letting me know the reality of the situation,” I said. “So, what happens now?”

“Although you have only been on the ship for a few days,” he intoned, “you have followed the restrictions placed on you without complaint and have spent your time educating yourself in ways that do not threaten this ship or the Federation. You apologized for hurting your nurse, even when it was clear you were disoriented and not completely in control of your actions. Most recently, when the Angosian prisoner escaped, you attempted to protect the ship and its crew by attempting to apprehend the escapee and were injured for your trouble. This all speaks well of your character. As such, I will be removing most of your movement restrictions while onboard – at least for the time being. I hope the rest of your time spent on the _Enterprise_ will be productive and help you acclimate to this new place and time you find yourself in. We will soon be returning to Earth for resupply, so please spend some time considering what it is you want to do once you get back to the planet.”

This was a bit of an odd turn. If things had been reversed, I don’t know if I would have trusted an Augment with mostly free reign on my ship, especially after only a few days of ‘good behavior.’ Picard didn’t strike me as that naïve, and considering the reactions from Worf and Riker, I suppose that this was going to be a trial run of sorts for me. If I took this opportunity to be a good boy, then I likely would be fine, but if I followed in the steps of Khan and tried to take over the ship, it wouldn’t end well for me. I had no doubt that I would still be under constant physical and computer surveillance, so I would need to be on my best behavior.

“Thanks again, Captain,” I said. “I’ve actually thought about it a great deal, and while I was a combat engineer in my previous life, my skills are not exactly up-to-date, so I was hoping to make learning my fulltime job, really. There is so much yet for me to learn and I think becoming a librarian would be the way to go. And while my dimension’s history might not have been the same as yours, your historians will likely find no one better at understanding 20th and 21st century Earth than me.”

Both Troi and Picard looked slightly shocked at my answer, and I’m sure most people would have looked the same – an _Augment_ wanting to be a _librarian_? The thing is, I wasn’t lying – there really was a lot for me to learn if I ever wanted to explore this time, go on adventures, or be a captain of my own ship, and this position would give me ready access to resources I would otherwise be unable to access. I had learned that the libraries of the 24th century were mostly archive repositories, with very few actual people coming inside except for research purposes. They were also equipped with holodecks – which would be very important if I wanted to get the appropriate training that I would have otherwise been unable to get except at Starfleet. Libraries had most of the ship training scenarios I would need to go through, including the infamous Kobayashi Maru program, also known as the No-Win Scenario. I might even find a few shipboard emergency scenarios or combat training simulations – it wouldn’t be quite the same as having a flesh-and-blood instructor with actual experience under their belt there to teach me and critique my performance, but my mental enhancements should bridge the gap. Eventually I may even be able to find someone who would teach me.

“That’s… surprising,” Picard said, apparently thrown off his usual stoic nature due to my unexpected answer. “Uhm… yes. Right. Well, I don’t expect that would be a problem. I will make inquiries on Earth, if you’re sure. Counselor, why don’t you give Gothic a real tour of the ship.”

“Of course, captain,” she replied and stood up, waiting for me to join her.

“Captain, there was one more thing I wanted to talk to you about,” I started, feeling rather nervous about this next request.

“Go on,” Picard said.

“As you may have heard, I stumbled across Lt. Worf’s calisthenics program on the holodeck. As it was set to public, I ran the program. It was invigorating and robust,” I said.

“I received a report about that from Doctor Crusher. You received some minor injuries, but your natural healing was able to deal with most of it, as I understand. Were your injuries more severe than previously thought?” Picard asked, sounding concerned. It made sense; my physiology wasn’t exactly well understood.

Smiling now, I tried to reassure him. “No, no, I’m feeling very well, better than well, completely healed as a matter of fact with no lingering effects. Doctor Crusher took very good care of me. What I’m trying to get at is that when I was looking for an exercise program to run, I found many interactive training and instructional programs publicly available to all the ship’s inhabitants, set to open access, even to those people onboard who aren’t members of Starfleet,” I explained. “Since this time and dimension will be my new home, I’ve spent much of my free time trying to acclimate and learn everything I can, trying to, at a minimum, achieve the same level of education any adult in the Federation would have. I would like your formal permission to run these publicly available interactive training and instructional programs on the holodeck while onboard.”

At this Picard leaned back in his seat, looking genuinely confused. When I had found this huge list of programs available to anyone onboard, I was excited at just what I could learn via the holodeck… then harsh reality set in. I had no doubt whatsoever that Starfleet Intelligence and Section 31, were aware of my every physical and electronic move while onboard. While I’m sure I could probably get away with it, it was much better in my mind to simply level with the captain, be as transparent as possible, and ask for his formal permission. Given what I knew of Picard from the shows, and the man’s propensity to do what was right, versus what was easy, I had little reason to think he’d actually say no, but the proper steps needed to be taken anyway. The captain’s formal permission would be a powerful shield against naysayers like SI, though probably not so much with Section 31.

“I am afraid I don’t understand the need for such a request, Gothic. We have many such programs available in the ship’s database. The Federation and Starfleet encourages its people to always continue learning and improving ourselves. Official certifications and licensures, up to a certain level, can even be obtained through such programs. As you’ve said, these are freely available and set to open access, so I do not understand why you would even require my permission,” Picard said.

Sighing at this expected, albeit somewhat naive answer, I continued.

“Captain, I’ve read what the Augments of Earth did during the Eugenics Wars. I’ve seen how the crew have looked at me in the corridors, seen their eyes fill with distrust and fear and suspicion. My security escort have unconsciously acted like at any moment I would spout some insane nonsense about my superiority over the human race and try to take over the ship, like Khan did,” I explained passionately. “I might be genetically enhanced now, but I wasn’t like that at birth or from childhood. I was born in 1982 on Earth, a regular human with no super abilities or powers or whatever you want to call them. I was 34 years old when I was last on my Earth in 2016. I might be called an ‘Augment’, and that might make for a good shorthand, but that’s not really accurate for me. I’m not from this dimension. The Eugenics Wars was not part of my world’s history. Being considered or seen as an Augment, fair or not given my unique circumstances, comes with a lot of prejudice, a lot of baggage, a lot of weight and bad history that I’m being viewed with. Being considered or seen as an Augment means every action of mine is scrutinized for nefarious intent. I’m asking for your formal permission because I recognize all that, fair or unfair. I would rather be completely upfront and transparent now, before it ever became an issue, or something that could be used against me to sow even more suspicion. This way I won’t be thrown in the brig because I started a ship pilot training and licensing program, or an engineering primer, or a weapon’s safety and maintenance course so I can play a game of Velocity on the holodeck.”

I felt a soft hand gently grip my shoulder when I finished speaking. Looking over I saw that it was Counselor Troi, with a sad smile on her face, obviously offering me some comfort. The emotions I felt while saying all that weren’t faked. I knew I’d likely always be viewed with mistrust by humanity. While I had a thirst for adventure and wanted to travel through space on a ship of my own one day, I wasn’t evil and certainly didn’t want to be looked at like a villain without my having done something to actually deserve it.

Picard looked taken aback by my words, but also thoughtful.

“I am saddened to hear that, Gothic. While Starfleet and the Federation do have genuine concerns about the Augments of that time, you most certainly should not be tarred with that brush given your unique origins. It is patently unfair and unjust given your circumstances. I will try to make it very clear to the crew and to Lt. Worf that you are not an Augment of that time, and should not be viewed that way. You have my permission to partake of any publicly available, open access training program in the ship’s database on the holodeck, and I will both make a note in the ship’s log saying the same. Will that assuage your concerns? You will never be thrown in the brig for trying to better yourself while onboard _my_ ship,” Picard said solemnly, offering me his assurances. This was a genuinely good man, a great example of what humanity could be.

“Thank you, captain. That gives me incredible peace of mind. Good day to you, captain,” I said and got up.

“If you have any more concerns like this, Gothic, please feel free to seek me out or speak to Counselor Troi. Good day,” he replied.

We stepped out onto the bridge; apparently my guards had already known they were no longer needed since they were nowhere to be seen. I gave a nod to Data and then Troi and I were off to see more of the ship.

I was excited for another reason. A whole new dimension of practical education had just opened up to me, stuff that could be genuinely useful to me on many levels. I had a feeling the holodeck and I were going to become well acquainted with each other.

**XXXXX**

**Ten Forward. U.S.S. _Enterprise_.**

The tour had been everything I had hoped for and more. I had only caught a glimpse of some of the more sensitive areas like Main Engineering, but it was still something I would remember fondly for all of my life. While we had only entered a few feet into the section and stayed mostly by the entrance, my telescoping sight, which I had discovered upon originally awakening in sickbay, allowed me to see pretty much everything within my eye line, including the various displays and controls. Using this ‘zoom’ feature of my sight did cost me my peripheral vision, though. Switching between the two ‘modes’ would take a little time to master, but could prove very, very useful in the future, especially since my memory was near perfect. I could simply review my memory of everything I had seen later, if I wanted. This ‘far sight’ gave me my first look at Geordi La Forge, who looked practically identical to the actor who played him on television, Levar Burton.

As the tour progressed, I noticed that the crew had apparently gotten the word that I was no longer to be shunned, and they more or less were just politely ignoring me now. No more dirty looks was certainly an improvement, to be sure. Troi chose to end the tour in Ten Forward – a lounge located at the very front of the ship, on deck 10, which gave it a spectacular view of the surrounding space, especially when the ship was at warp. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows were tables and chairs, so that the ship’s inhabitants could get together and eat and drink, with waiters circulating around the room taking orders. Several tables had games like Three-Dimensional Chess set up upon them for more recreational pursuits. The central area was dominated by a large bar, behind which stood the place’s host and bartender, the infamous Guinan.

Guinan was a very attractive, dark-skinned woman, whose age seemed to shift depending on whom she was speaking to, having a sort of ageless look about her. I guess that wasn’t really a surprise, since she was actually several hundred years old, at least. How old she truly was was a mystery even the show hadn’t revealed, but since she had been kicking around in the 1800s on Earth, as one episode had shown, she had to be at least 600 years old.

Guinan might look entirely human at first glance, but she was actually an El-Aurian, a species that was very long-lived and didn’t seem to visibly age. On the shows they were almost identical to humans, but this universe’s version differed by having colorful crystals embedded in their foreheads, palms, ankles, behind the ears, and over their genitals, which the El-Aurians could make disappear or reappear at will. On the TNG show and movies, Guinan had been portrayed by Whoopi Goldberg, but this version looked more like a vibrant and sexy Angela Bassett. The main reason I realized that the host actually was Guinan, was her placement behind the bar in Ten-Forward. This woman also wore the familiar multi-layered shapeless robes with large attached head piece that had some sort of disc shape form, which was Guinan’s signature ensemble in the show – like a mixture between a nun’s habit and traditional African garb. Today’s ensemble was a rich purple with a lavender colored toga-like overlay and what looked like fingerless opera gloves.

Our entrance had not gone unnoticed. While the room didn’t exactly go completely silent, quite a bunch of people turned to look at me with varying expressions, making me momentarily feel like I was an 80’s movie villain that had come into a rival dojo to annoy the plucky young hero or a stranger walking into a bar in a western. Fortunately, it didn’t last long, because I honestly could not give a fuck what they thought about me – I had nothing to be ashamed about. Apparently, that got through to them because they all soon turned back to whatever they had been doing when we entered.

I approached the bar and took a seat with Troi joining me soon after. Guinan approached with that small, knowing smile I had seen many times before, and asked us what we wanted to drink. From across the room I had decided that Guinan was quite attractive, but when she spoke – wow, just wow. Even though she had only asked an innocent question, that low-pitched, husky voice just seemed to suggest the naughtiest of ideas in my ears.

Troi suggested a drink and Guinan poured out a glowing liquid into two glasses - that’s when I got my first taste of really the first thing I actively disliked about this universe… synthehol. Synthehol is basically synthetic alcohol - it smells like alcohol, and somewhat tastes like it, but you got none of the benefits of getting really buzzed (if you’re human). I say somewhat tastes, because I’m not sure if was just that my taste buds had gotten the same upgrades as the rest of me, or whether years of drinking the real thing had made me sensitive to the difference, or if it was something inherent to synthehol, but I noticed this weird aftertaste after every sip that I just couldn’t ignore. I hadn’t been a huge drinker before my dimensional transfer here, or even a connoisseur of fine spirits like some of my fellow servicemen had been about beer or whiskey, but I could safely say that even if one could get drunk off this stuff (which they couldn’t), becoming an alcoholic wouldn’t be one of my future problems.

I didn’t quite do a comic spit take of my first sip of the glowing concoction, but it was a very near thing. Apparently, I must have had a bit of a mix of revulsion and disappointment on my face because both Troi and Guinan started laughing.

“Not what you were expecting?” Guinan asked in that all knowing and patient tone she must have developed over the centuries.

“Well, it doesn’t feel like its eating its way through my stomach lining, even though its glowing rather ominously,” I said. “So I suppose that’s better than some of the stuff I’ve drank in my life.”

Troi actually giggled at my reply. “I’m sorry, I just can’t get over the look on your face!”

“Well, at least someone is getting enjoyment from this… this…” I stopped, trying not to use words best not said in polite company.

Guinan considered me for a moment, then took my glass away. She reached under the bar and got an old looking bottle and a new glass that she set before me. The bottle was rectangular, transitioning into a circular opening from which to pour from, and had a greenish yellow liquid inside that reminded me a bit of a picture of Absinthe I had once seen. She poured the bottle’s contents into the glass and motioned for me to give it a try, which I did.

The liquid tasted sort of like Earth whiskey, at least that was the closest thing I could come up with, but that was all I could really say as I had been more of a beer drinker and a fruity cocktail guy, which I was man enough to drink openly. I had tasted whiskey before, but it had been nothing like this. There were so many subtle flavors going on, quite a bit fruiter than Earth whiskey, but they also worked together to combine into one new taste and sensation on the tongue. This was definitely top-shelf stuff.

I had actually closed my eyes as I enjoyed the drink. When I opened them, both Troi and Guinan were looking at me. Troi appeared almost like she had gotten a contact high from the strength of my emotional reaction, while Guinan had a mysterious smile upon her lips.

“That was… incredible,” I said, meaning it too.

“That was Aldebaran whiskey,” Guinan replied, still smiling. “It is a very rare vintage and I only take it out on special occasions.” She put the bottle back under the bar.

“I believe you and thank you for sharing it with me,” I said. “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s not every day I meet a relic of the past,” she answered, a contemplative look upon her face.

While we spoke, Riker entered the lounge and began making his way towards one of the tables. I had caught his entrance from the corner of my eye, but had chosen to ignore him. He had definitely seen me, though, since I felt like Riker was practically burning a hole in my back with the strength of his glare. What had I done to that guy? I doubted he’d ever had had the occasion to meet or be harmed by another Augment, so what was his deal?? Or could it be because I was sitting here with Troi and Guinan? He had never seemed like the jealous type in the show when it came to his old flame.

I guess Troi felt my unease, as she frowned, turning and glancing in Riker’s direction, because she excused herself and went to speak to him, diverting his attention and leaving me alone with Guinan.

There wasn’t much whiskey left in the glass, but I nursed it for the next hour or so as I got to know Guinan. She was the very definition of the Winston Churchill quote: ‘a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma’. I don’t know if it was something inherent to being an El-Aurian or if it was just the result of being very long-lived, but I had no doubt that Guinan had not always been a lounge host. I noticed her footwork was too well placed, her movements too precise, and she had perfect spatial awareness – I wouldn’t be surprised if she had once been a soldier or even an assassin of some sort. I wondered why she was on the _Enterprise_ , but I figured that despite all of the crazy stuff the ship got into, it was still a relatively peaceful and interesting place to be, and being the host gave her the perfect place to pick up the ship’s goings on. I doubted she had any nefarious plans for the _Enterprise_ or the Federation, but it was exactly the type of position a former spy might choose to take up to keep a hand in the business. On the other hand, for a very long-lived species, maybe this was just another interesting stop on her long journey of a life.

Time quickly passed, and eventually the lounge emptied out. I had stayed because I got the feeling that Guinan had wanted to talk to me when there were less people around. I didn’t have anything in particular to do and had had my fill of studying for the day, so I sat and waited. This was actually the first time in a couple of days where I hadn’t been studying for hours on end or getting into fights on the holodeck and I needed the break.

Guinan took out another bottle, this one with a glowing blue liquid inside. She grabbed two fresh glasses and walked around the bar to take a seat next to me on the barstool. She poured us both a small amount and waited for me to take a sip. The liquid was some sort of beer, a bit harsh on the throat, but it definitely had a real alcoholic kick to it with this really interesting taste that I was enjoying. It wasn’t for everyone, but the more I drank it, the more and more I liked it.

“What is this?” I asked. “It’s really… good.”

“Romulan Ale,” Guinan told me, taking a sip of her own. “It's technically illegal for Federation citizens to have due to the trade embargo, but you aren't technically a part of the Federation and neither am I really, so I'm not breaking any laws by serving it to you.”

We sat for another few moments in silence, just enjoying our drinks. I could see why Starfleet personnel constantly broke the embargo to get some, so it was a shame that I wouldn’t be able to find it easily in Federation space. The period of comfortable silence ended seemingly all too soon when Guinan spoke, “You know, I spent quite some time on Earth, long before the Federation even existed. My people are… long lived, and I arrived in 1800’s San Francisco.”

“No shi…” I started to say, barely managing to stop myself. Somehow it felt almost wrong, almost disrespectful to swear on the _Enterprise_.

Guinan smiled despite herself, obviously knowing what I had barely stopped myself from saying, and said, “No shit.”

“I’m from there myself, though not from the 1800’s,” I said, smiling as well.

Guinan’s smile faded. “Yes, I’ve heard. As I said, I spent a lot of time on Earth and have seen some of the best and some of the worst of humanity. I hope you don’t take offense, but some of the greatest tragedies I bore witness to happened because of the Tyrants, the Augments that had conquered most of the planet in the Eugenics Wars.”

I remained silent, wondering where she was going with this. I had the impression that this conversation was very important, and that turning her into an enemy would be a very bad idea.

She continued. “Obviously their body count paled to World War III’s, but that was a world war – the Augments were relatively few in number, but did so much harm.”

She made sure to catch my eye and held it. “I actually knew an Augment. Not one of the more famous ones like Khan, but a Tyrant nonetheless. He was an arrogant monster, who killed as easily as some people breathed.”

Guinan paused to take a small sip before continuing. “He was incredibly charming, funny, and charismatic, even though he was up to his neck in blood. I knew he was evil, but I couldn’t help but like him anyway, even ignoring the atrocities he was committing because of my affection towards him. My inaction eventually led him to killing a dear friend of mine… I had the chance to prevent untold suffering and death and yet did nothing, so her death and those of so many others stains my soul to this day, a sin that follows me even with it happening so long ago. Upon my friend’s death I swore to not allow another Tyrant to rise if I could stop it.”

Guinan stared into my eyes, like she was digging into my soul. “I don’t think you are evil, Gothic. On the contrary, you seem to be a pretty good guy. You don’t act like everyone owes you something for being genetically enhanced, or that you’re superior to them because you’re smarter, and stronger, and faster. You even waited for me to get free without complaint instead of throwing a tantrum, shouting about how the non-Augments should be waiting on you hand and foot. That wasn’t an act. You also have a pretty good sense of humor.”

Guinan finally smiled, and I couldn’t help giving her one in return, but it dimmed as Guinan continued. “I don’t know if you’re going to turn into another Tyrant, Gothic. What I do know is that if you do go down that path, then one day soon, you’re going to find yourself on the wrong end of a phaser – and the person holding it won’t hesitate to pull the trigger like I did so long ago.”

For a moment, I could feel as if the Grim Reaper himself was standing behind me, with his scythe at the ready. It only confirmed that Guinan was not somebody to fuck with.

“I appreciate your honesty and warning,” I said solemnly, meaning it. I wasn’t sure why I was so atypical compared to past Augments, but I knew that it would be so easy to become like them and that was the last thing I wanted.

“I don’t know what the future holds, Guinan,” I said after a moment, “but I think it would be better if I was dead than be like them.”

Guinan nodded at me and finished her drink, and I followed suit.

“I imagine my memories of Earth are quite a bit different than yours. Tell me, did you ever see…” she said, starting off a nice conversation that I hoped would be the start of a beautiful and lasting friendship.

**XXXXX**

**Guest Quarters. U.S.S. _Enterprise_.**

I wandered back to my quarters deep in thought. It seemed odd moving through the corridors without my two quiet and watchful tails trailing behind me. I didn’t miss them, but I guess that I had started getting used to them. Maybe I was just in a melancholic mood – ah well.

When I reached my quarters, I felt stone-cold sober. While I hadn’t had much real alcohol to drink, it seemed like I wasn’t even buzzed anymore. I guess my body was now treating alcohol like a toxin and had purged it from my system… great, just great. I wasn’t feeling tired, so I grabbed a bite to eat from the replicator and went back to studying. By this point I was about the equivalent of an eighth-grader in the Federation. The education system of the 24th century was quite a bit different than from my time, with a lot more advanced science and math introduced early on - for example, it was expected for most children to at least know basic calculus by the third grade. I found that kind of funny/sad because I remember barely passing that class when I was in high school. Fortunately, I was able to grasp the material quickly, making sure to take the sample tests that the computer had in its memory banks - that’s right you little ankle-biters and snot-nosed punks… fear me, for I will destroy your grading curve… mwaghahahahaha!

Kidding aside, I probably could have been going faster, but I wanted to really know all this stuff backwards and forwards. What truly worried me was my lack of unofficial information, the shared experiences of a people, the cultural touchstones that defines every institution and society, the many little things that everyone knows by social osmosis, but which aren’t written down in any textbook or holoprogram. For example, in my time it would have been the movies that everyone had seen, or the idioms and sayings native to a country, or the shared history and events that colored how everything was perceived. While it seemed somewhat ridiculous, I might really need to read what other alien races had written about Earth and the Federation to get a grasp on the culture. I was human, I had been born on Earth itself, but in many fundamental ways, I was as alien to humanity and the Federation as a Ferengi would be. I had to approach learning about this time and culture in that way, without preconception.

After a couple of hours more learning, I went to sleep. My enhanced physiology meant I woke up only two hours later fully refreshed and went through my morning routine, waiting for the rest of the ship to wake up, though that wasn’t strictly a real thing. There was no sun to adjust a sleep cycle to when out of a star system, but Starfleet had designated a day/night cycle for the health of its humanoid crew. Of course, the ship was manned and operated at all times, but late night did tend to be more sedate than in the ‘day’.

About 1030, I received a comm from Troi, asking me to meet her at the holodeck. Now that I was confirmed to not be a ’bad’ Augment, she wanted to introduce me to Federation life and culture. I had been worried about my lack of shared cultural knowledge so I was quite interested in seeing what she chose to share with me.

**XXXXX**

**Holodeck. U.S.S. _Enterprise_**

A couple of hours later, I was not in a good mood… not after going through ‘The Adventures of Flotter’, which was a series of children's holoprograms set in the Forest of Forever, where colorful characters like Flotter and Trevis (representations of natural elements and the forces of nature) helped teach children to be good little Federation boys and girls. _That_ was what Troi had decided would be my introduction to Federation culture and its people’s shared cultural touchstones.

So far, I'd gone through ‘Flotter and the Tree Monster’, ‘Flotter and the Perfect Day’, ‘Trevis and the Terribly Twisted Trunk’, ‘Flotter, Trevis, and the Ogre of Fire’ and last of all ‘Flotter Meets the Invincible Invertebrates’, which had involved me proving that they weren't all that invincible - my approach may have been unique, though, considering Troi’s stupefied reaction.

Maybe I had been a bit unfairly violent in my problem-solving approach, after all, this was a series designed specifically for small children - but something about Flotter and his pals set my teeth on edge and finally pushed me over the limit. I understood that this was part of Troi’s social immersion program, an attempt at giving me some cultural touchstones that would be common in this day and age, like some popular TV shows and movies had been in mine… and yet…

“Is this a common program used by children in the Federation?” I asked once the last program had ended. “Did you go through them as well?”

“These programs were one of my favorites as a child,” she informed me, softly smiling. “I had a great personal loss when I was very young and Flotter helped me get over that pain by letting me join in on his fantastical adventures.”

While on the surface it didn’t seem that different from the kids' programs of my time, i.e. Sesame Street, I felt there was something kind of insidious about the whole thing that only an adult outsider would or even could pick up on. Most children’s programs had some sort of moral message to convey, i.e. ‘stealing is wrong’ or ‘don’t talk to strangers’, that was true in my time as well, but this felt a bit more dangerous, like the program had been trying to brainwash me somehow.

Troi had obviously felt my unease, because she asked me about it, “Why do they make you so uneasy? I know that using a program meant for children can be embarrassing, but you seem rather upset.”

I considered my response for a moment, reviewing the holo-programs in my mind and examining them as a whole, rather than individually. I was getting much better at high-level data analysis, correlation, and synthesis, and I think I finally figured out what my subconscious had been warning me about. "They all seemed a little wrong somehow," I said.

Troi looked genuinely confused.

“I'm not sure what you mean,” was her response. “Of course, most people don't attack the invincible invertebrates, but aside from that you did very well.”

“I think the problem is something I found to be inherent in Federation culture. I'm worried that you think that somehow, just by the Federation simply existing, that the Federation way of life and perspective is so wonderful and right that eventually the rest of the galaxy will stop being disobedient children and unite under the great flag of the United Federation of Planets.”

“While I disagree with your wording,” Troi said, “would it really be so bad if exactly that happened? Imagine a galaxy without war, where starships were built only to explore, not conquer… how much less pain and death there would be if everyone tried to work together to battle disease and poverty rather than each other.”

Troi was speaking of the galaxy becoming a utopia. The concept of a true utopia had been around for a long, long time, but I doubt it would ever actually happen on such a large scale. In a perfect universe, everyone would do the right thing for the right reasons, but I don’t think that universe exists, especially when what is ‘right’ can differ from culture to culture. Like it or not, most of the beings that had evolved enough to rise as the dominant lifeform on their worlds, had often begun as predators… and that inherent predatory behavior did not just stop by flicking some sort of mental switch or simply developing advanced technology.

There is this great speech from the Dark Knight movie I have always taken to heart: “Some men aren’t looking for anything logical, like money. They can’t be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn.” The same principle applies here, except perhaps on a species or multi-planet political entity/empire basis. There will always be those who cannot be worked with, who lie, cheat, steal, rape, kill just because they can… even when it’s to their own detriment. It is the very height of naiveté, if not outright blind stupidity, to think that good thoughts alone can change reality, and the Federation was practically indoctrinating its citizens with this attitude. Sometimes, two races could not co-exist. Sometimes, for one race to survive, another had to die.

Fortunately for the United Federation of Planets, there were those who stayed in the shadows, a hidden force running around behind their back, doing the terrible things that the Feds were unwilling, or unable, to do themselves. This secret police and intelligence organization, known as Section 31, was not bound by rules, regulations, law, or even morality, nor the principles and ideals upon which the Federation was built. No, they knew of the many horrors this galaxy could offer, of the monsters, both external and internal, that would gladly feast on the Federation's rich corpse if they could or the existential threats that would see it end. They were the ones who crept silently in the shadows, with a bloody dagger in hand, keeping the citizens safe from threats foreign and domestic. As an Augment and a dimensional traveler, I had no doubt whatsoever that I was already on Section 31's radar – either as a future target, or as an asset.

What truly made the whole thing tragic to me was that I really did love the idea of the Federation, that humankind in particular had finally broken out of a seemingly never-ending cycle of self-destruction and had tried to better itself, joining with other species through diplomacy and cooperation, all working towards a better future. However, the mere existence and sheer _necessity_ of Section 31, an organization that had been around since the Federation first came into existence, made the UFP feel like a hollow sham on some level, though even that was probably patently unfair…

Was it because the Federation’s people had so thoroughly deluded themselves that made me feel this way? That they believed they were better than the other large multi-planet polities like the Romulan and Klingon Empires, the Cardassian Union, and others with their feared and powerful intelligence/secret police agencies? Was it because most Federation citizens, and Starfleet as a whole, had this ridiculous belief that the Federation’s success, its continued growth and increasing power, its survival through and victories in multiple wars with various species, was _through_ the sheer power of their ideals, conviction, and overall goodness? That the Federation had prevailed through all that due to the very rightness of its existence?? _What a crock of shit..._ There was a famous quote, often (mis)attributed to George Orwell, that said, ‘People sleep peacefully in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.’ Was Section 31 the ‘rough men’ for the Federation or were they the villains of the story?

From my perspective, Flotter was pretty much just a tool of insidious cultural propaganda – one that was systematically shown to children when they were at their most impressionable and malleable so as to keep them from seeing the universe as it truly was… a cold, dark place that wouldn’t notice or even care if the last human alive drew their last breath. Perhaps that was a bit nihilistic, but living in a dream world wasn’t the answer either.

“What if some people don't want to follow the party line?” I asked her. “What if they want to live the way they choose to, and not your way?”

Perhaps Troi wasn’t the best person to be asking these questions of, but I really did want to know what she thought. I could feel my frustration building - maybe I was just jaded from knowing what was really going on behind the scenes, but I knew that for all the Federation’s talk, they often chose the easy way instead of the right one – hiding behind things like the Prime Directive when it suited them.

“People have freedom in the Federation,” Troi pointed out. “They can do anything they want to with their lives.”

“Do you really believe that?” I asked, looking her dead in the eye. “Federation freedom seems to come with an asterisk attached – only those who have the Federation’s approval need apply and only when they exercise that freedom in approved ways. By the way, have you noticed the sheer percentage of Starfleet that’s human?? What the hell is that about?! There are many other races in the Federation, damn it!” I said, throwing my hands in the air.

What was the deal with that? Was the organization so human-centric they stacked the ranks? Or was humanity pulling a much larger proportionate share of the weight when it came to recruitment? In theory, the other member worlds of the Federation should have just as much skin in the game as humanity. If it was the latter, then the Federation was in serious trouble. If races joined up for the defensive, economic, and trade benefits membership brought, but without actually contributing and risking their own people, then that spoke of an alliance that could easily be broken through enough hardship and adversity…or enough convenience.

“Sorry, that’s a completely different issue altogether. Back to the issue of Federation freedom, I am not a criminal… I am not even from this universe, and yet because I am genetically enhanced, I can’t join Starfleet, or run for political office – no exceptions. You really think I want to just be a librarian? I want to be an explorer, discovering new worlds and new civilizations… going boldly where no man has gone before… all these holoprogams are doing are promoting a lie, and bright colors and cheerful dialog won’t change that.”

Truthfully, I didn’t want to become a politician or join Starfleet – but not having the option meant I wasn't actually free to choose them. Politics, with their ever-shifting loyalties, sounded like a nightmare. And as for Starfleet – I had already been part of the military once, and I wasn’t eager to get under the flag (or thumb) of another one... especially since I had a lot more disdain for the group than I had previously realized.

“Is that what troubles you about the program?” Troi asked me. “I suppose I can see why you'd find it contradictory, but yours is a very unusual and very rare case. Yes, there are some restrictions, but you'll be free to do whatever else you want to do. If being a librarian isn’t your dream job, then you don’t even have to work if you don’t want to - all your needs will be met, and you'll be able to seek out other forms of employment just for the sake of personal improvement and enjoyment.”

Troi paused to give me a moment to consider her words. “Your unique situation will astound archeologists and sociologists alike, and I’m sure they will want to speak with you," she said. “You are living history, and even though your Earth is different than ours, you still lived in a past era; there's still much you can teach our historians about that time.”

Even though I had chosen to be a librarian out of necessity, life as a guest lecturer seemed like an even duller idea. I had freaking super powers for fuck’s sake… a life in academia was not where my interests lay. No, with my new found powers and knowledge of the future, the galaxy itself was my playground. I had every intention of living well, going on adventures, having fun with alien women, and making it look easy.

My trail of thought came to end when Troi's communicator suddenly beeped.

“Deanna,” Commander Riker's voice said. “We need you to come to the Captain's quarters. We have a problem.”

She pressed the comm device on her chest before replying.

“I'll be right there,” she answered before addressing me. "We'll have to continue our talk another time.”

I nodded at her. “See you around, Counselor,” I said as she left.

I guess I had been bottling some stuff up, but I wasn’t sure if unloading it all on Troi had been a good idea – one never knew who was listening. With the audio/video pickups all over the ship to query the computer, I wouldn’t be surprised if my every moment of every day on this ship was being recorded and studied by Starfleet Intelligence and Section 31. I thought about going back to studying, but since I was already in the holodeck, I figured I might as well make the best of the situation.

I was tempted to access some of the training programs available, now that I had gotten the Captain’s formal permission, but I felt it prudent to wait a bit and let my new status settle a bit more with the crew, not wanting to give Worf any excuse to bring me in for questioning. Waiting a bit longer before accessing those programs would also give me more time to obtain the foundational knowledge necessary to make those programs worthwhile. Instead, I decided to try my hand at holo-programming and designed a light cycle from the TRON movies and an arena in which to drive it around.

Light cycles were futuristic motorcycles that leave a solid trail of light behind them, with the purpose being to force another rider into crashing into it. I even created a second racer and fought against him. I had to build the entire program from scratch as apparently the TRON series had never existed in this universe for whatever reason, which was a shame as it fit right in with what a holodeck should be used for. Thankfully, the idea was simple enough to implement a crude version of it and the computer was smart enough to figure out what I described. It was kind of awesome to design the bikes from memory and even select different sounds for the motorcycle engine running and throttling up.

Anyway, it was a thrilling escape and I spent hours playing with the program, designing a three-dimensional grid and arena to ride the bike through, including some epic gravity changes. Riding the bike at insane speeds and making hairpin turns made me realize yet again just how awesome it was to be an Augment. I was capable of doing some truly epic-level stunts now. When I finished, I finally felt relaxed and the smile on my face was huge. The fact that I loved the Tron: Legacy soundtrack and had it mentally playing the entire time made the whole experience even better, though it would have been epic to have it playing for real. Man, I had really needed that. I saved the program to my own personal directory and got ready to leave, but set it to public. Maybe someone else on the _Enterprise_ might find the same joy in this program that I had.

After that surprisingly tiring program, I was famished, but eating alone in my quarters didn’t sound the least bit enjoyable, so I decided to make an appearance at Ten Forward instead and set off towards the nearest turbolift.

**XXXXX**

**Ten Forward. U.S.S. _Enterprise_.**

I entered the lounge and was surprised to see that most of the seats were full - I must have come just as a duty shift had ended. I said hello to Guinan and took a look around. Sitting alone at one of the corner tables was Data, who was apparently doing some people watching. Maybe it was the nerd in me, but I found the guy utterly fascinating, and I decided to make my way towards him.

“Hi Data,” I said. “Mind if I join you?”

“Hello, Gothic,” Data replied. “No, please feel free to join me.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” I said, “why are you in Ten Forward if you don’t need to eat or drink?”

“My sitting in this location allows me to study the behaviors of the various individuals who are onboard the _Enterprise_ ,” he said. “I use the information gathered to compile a new algorithm with which to simulate similar mannerisms so as to be more like an organic being.”

“Do you ever join in?” I asked.

“Join in?” he asked in return, as if confused.

“Well, yes,” I said. “Sometimes _doing_ is more effective than studying. When I had to assemble my couch, I did read the instructions first, but physically building it was a whole other story… mostly because it was a cheap couch and the parts didn’t line up correctly or were flimsy when they did. I had to experiment with different tools and materials to fix the couch up, but eventually that thing was as solid as a rock. I learned far more from doing, than I did just by reading the instructions.”

Data tilted his head slightly to the left, almost like a bird, which I knew from the shows was the physical way he conveyed thinking/processing new information.

“I think I understand the analogy you are trying to convey. Your hypothesis is an interesting one. How would one go about proving it?”

Well, as it turns out, it wasn’t that hard. Data and I would walk up to a table, ask if they would like to help Data with an experiment (to which surprisingly everyone we asked agreed to), and then we would sit down for a couple of minutes, trying to join in on a conversation in progress or start our own, with me being Data’s wingman, before moving to another table. Apparently, people were quite curious about Data and I, and I’ll admit, I made some interesting acquaintances that evening. Still, of all the things I thought I would wind up doing, essentially speed dating my way through Ten Forward as Data’s coach was not one of them.

The end result of our little experiment was that Data did indeed have a slightly more ‘human’ aspect when speaking, mostly in inflection. Working with him was rather fascinating, like watching an almost physical representation of a program upgrading on a computer, although instead of a progress bar, he got more nuanced dialog patterns - but the point remains. I was a long way from getting anywhere near cybernetics, but like many scientists, I wondered if I could one day make a duplicate of Data.

Apparently, someone in command noticed what we were doing, because I soon met Geordi La Forge, the _Enterprise’s_ Chief Engineer. La Forge was a man focused on technology, and his interests seemed primarily geared towards studying, building, or repairing various devices – basically the perfect engineer. I could see why he and Data were such good friends, and while I can’t say that La Forge and I were instant buddies, I think that we got along pretty well.

La Forge’s blindness was something I didn’t understand, both as a fan in another universe and in my present situation. According to my memory, the man had been born blind, which suggested some kind of genetic abnormality. My studies had shown that the Federation, while making it illegal for genetic manipulation in an attempt to improve the body, had nothing against genetic manipulation whose intent was to cure or prevent a disease, or fix an abnormality. So how was it that La Forge’s blindness hadn’t been fixed? It didn’t make a ton of sense to me.

Being in close proximity to the _Enterprise’s_ Chief Engineer and Data allowed me to pivot the conversation to finding out more about the ship and its technology. I was genuinely interested in all the widgets and gizmos that made flying the _Enterprise_ possible. Eventually, we separated, and each went on their way.

I was making my way back to my quarters when I stumbled across Beverly Crusher.

“Well, hello there, Doc,” I greeted with a smile, my mind jumping back with perfect recall to the last time we had met and how my cock had felt pounding her pussy.

“Hello to you too,” she said, smiling as well, invitingly. Smiling was good – it meant she didn’t regret our hooking up the day before and I had obviously acquitted myself well enough and given her a good time. In the days after our tryst I had worried that the dominant streak I had shown during our encounter had scared her off, but it looked like I had read the situation right and she had enjoyed herself.

We made a little small talk, before she invited me back to her quarters for dinner in a couple of hours. Wesley was going to be working on some sort of science project, which gave us some time alone. I eagerly agreed and headed back to my quarters for a shower. Fortunately, it was soon time to go and I headed out.

**XXXXX**

**Beverly and Wesley Crusher’s Quarters. U.S.S. _Enterprise_.**

Beverly invited me in, dressed in a lovely peach-colored dress with a plunging neckline that emphasized those amazing breasts of hers. After a little small talk, we sat down to eat. The food came from the replicator, of course, but they were her selections and was actually really good, the menu being made up of several alien dishes I had never heard of before but would definitely be trying again.

We talked during the meal, just some typical getting-to-know-you conversation. We ended the meal and she invited me to sit on a couch. Just as I had finished sitting, she sat next to me and began kissing me. One thing led to another, and we were both soon naked, with her riding me like her life depended on it and in a perfect position so that my mouth could suck on her nipples. We had just finished orgasming in an epic fashion, my cock still hard and inside her, still catching our breath, when, of course, Wesley walked in.

“Mom, again?!?” he yelled and ran out, his face burning red in embarrassment.

This was becoming ridiculous, but thankfully wasn’t a true coitus interruptus situation, since we had both already finished. Laughing like teenagers, we got dressed and Beverly went after him again while I went back to my quarters… what a weird day. I took another shower and got into bed wondering what tomorrow would bring. Somehow, I doubted it’d be boring.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to or part of Star Trek. This fan fiction was written purely for fun.

**July 2020 Author’s Note:**

This chapter of the rewrite was reorganized and co-written by at16908.

**The Adventures of Augment Gothic**

**Chapter 3 – To Be, Or Not To Be**

**Ship’s Theatre. U.S.S.** _Enterprise_ **.**

The next few days quickly fell into a comfortable routine as I began to fully adjust to life in this alternate dimension and future. The only thing that stood out was a treaty conference in which the legendary ambassador, Sarek of Vulcan, had come onboard the _Enterprise_. He had had many notable career accomplishments during his two centuries of life, but he was also famous for being the legendary Spock’s father, although the two were estranged. Like in the TNG episode named ‘Sarek’, Sarek was trying to negotiate a treaty with a mysterious race called the Legarans, something he had been working towards for decades. Finalizing this treaty after so many years would be the capstone of his illustrious diplomatic career.

Unfortunately, Sarek was sick with a disease called Bendii Syndrome, an affliction that effected Vulcans over the age of 200, which caused them to lose their emotional control, which made doing his current task almost impossible, as he would unconsciously transfer his repressed emotions (especially anger) telepathically to the people around him, which would enflame tensions and lead to conflict – a big no-no for a treaty negotiation. His aide, Sakkath, had been using his own abilities to strengthen Sarek’s emotional control systems and hide the disease, but he could no longer keep up with the emotional demands, and the overflow began to spread throughout the ship causing incidents all over the ship, including a barfight in Ten Forward. Eventually, Picard called Sarek out on what was happening and offered himself up to help channel Sarek’s emotions via a mind meld. The mind meld and the conference itself was a success, and Sarek would leave soon after – forced into retirement due to his condition. Unfortunately, I missed most of his visit as I had been busy with my studies and growing interest in holo-programming, which in retrospect, was probably for the best – a fight had broken out in Ten Forward, and if he had affected me, then it might have ended very badly for everyone else, perhaps fatally. An emotionally unstable Augment could likely do a lot of damage if my holodeck combat proficiency was any indication.

I did get to meet him once, as we both attended a recital that Data was giving. I had decided to attend mostly out of curiosity, but since this was going to be a classy event, I had decided to go all out and had replicated a six-button, double breasted, pinstripe, black Armani suit, with a handsome cream-colored spread collar shirt and rose gold silk satin tie for the event. Getting the suit made, however, turned out to be a little more complicated than I had originally planned.

While replicators can and do make clothing, most of the stuff they make are built from a standard design or pattern in its database. Most clothing choices away from the standard pattern are simply color or size related, so anybody can easily make them… but, if you want something non-standard (i.e., fancier or unusual), you have to hope its replicator pattern is somewhere in the database or can easily be converted into a pattern the computer can use to create the item. If not, then you’re going have to create a unique design from scratch and better hope you have a holoprojector around to make things easier on yourself, as the human body was not two-dimensional. Thankfully, I did. Designing clothes on a two-dimensional screen that actually fit well was really hard, something I found out through trial and error.

When the suit was finally finished, I tried it on and found a perfect fit. One look in the mirror convinced me that it had been worth all the trouble. Because, _damn_ , dude, I was looking good! I knew my choice in clothes would probably look archaic and anachronistic to many, but with my new enhanced body, covered in a perfectly tailored suit based on designs from my time, I looked sexy. Like a male runway model mixed with James Bond.

Apparently my totally unbiased appraisal was shared by others as many of the attendees crowded around me before the show, a disproportionate number of them humanoid women. I think I met more people (humans and humanoids) at that one event than I had the entire time I’d been onboard the _Enterprise_. The amused glances Counselor Troi was sending me confirmed I wasn't misreading the signs of sexual interest in their coy (and sometimes almost pornographic) appraisals of me. And, damn, women in the 24th century could get handsy if they liked what they saw, let me tell you.

In fact, when I first arrived on the ship I thought I was going crazy as whenever I got within something like 10 feet of a humanoid woman their nostrils would flare a tiny bit (which would have been near unnoticeable before my enhanced eyesight) and the visible interest in their eyes ratcheted up several degrees. Many of these women, especially the unattached, single ones, would find any excuse to stop, and chat, and touch me, like they were confirming I was real, sending all kinds of signals that they were sexually interested in me.

I had spoken to Dr. Crusher about the phenomenon. At first, she had looked very amused, then turned thoughtful for several long moments. She had taken a few new scans and hadn’t found anything that would explain it, but excitedly speculated that humanity, and the other humanoid races, possibly had some instincts buried in their DNA that they still didn’t understand the mechanics of, perhaps something I was triggering as a strong alpha male capable of giving them unusually strong offspring. It was almost as if there were sensory cues that my body was giving off that possibly signaled that I was further along the evolutionary chain, yet was still compatible with them.

Her speculation that my robust and enhanced DNA meant I likely could have offspring with most humanoid species had been in the report she’d originally given me, but there was no way, without advanced diagnostic scanning equipment, that these women should have any reason to even suspect that, beyond my being more visually attractive and fit than most. Of course, these women were unlikely to be _consciously_ aware of this or even necessarily want children from me, but the drive was possibly there, buried in their DNA. She was excited at the possibility of figuring this out and suggested doing a study on the phenomenon which I politely, but firmly, declined. I had zero desire for the Federation to have even more information about me that could potentially be used against me in the future.

Not too long after my appearance, Sarek and his entourage showed up, which was a surprise to most since he had initially said he wouldn’t be attending. Captain Picard went to greet them, and then, surprisingly, motioned me over to meet the esteemed guest.

“Ambassador Sarek, Perrin, welcome,” the Captain formally greeted the Vulcan and his human wife. “I'm so glad you were able to make it.”

The ambassador was over 200 years old, but looked like a vigorous man in his late sixties, still healthy and strong. There was no outward sign of his illness, probably why he refused to believe he was sick in the first place.

“It was my good wife's suggestion that we attend. It seemed an ideal diversion. Perrin can be quite logical, when she chooses to be,” the old Vulcan said to the Starfleet officer. “I also quite wished to meet your guest from another time and dimension.”

The Captain turned and gestured toward me. “May I please introduce, Gothic, from an alternate Earth of the 20th and 21st century.”

"Live long and prosper," I greeted, using the traditional Vulcan salutation that nerds of the show loved to do, even making the appropriate split-fingered hand sign.

My inner geek was so very happy right now!

“Thank you, I already have,” Sarek answered in return, with just a trace of uplifted lips.

While Vulcans were often portrayed as humorless, Sarek, as a distinguished ambassador of over a century experience, was a bit of a chameleon, obviously quite used to dealing with the other emotional races who might find the typical Vulcan manner off-putting. His Vulcan stoicism had obviously been minimized or was flexible enough to allow for congenial relations with other races. Vulcan humor was more subtle than explicit, but I know I certainly appreciated the effort and recognized it for what it was. I think we would get along just fine.

“I would appreciate the opportunity to speak with you more,” Sarek said. “The chance to meet someone who is not only from the past, but also from a different universe is a once in a lifetime opportunity, even for someone who has lived as long as I have. Perhaps after the negotiations are complete you would join me for afternoon tea?”

He seemed almost eager at the prospect.

“I'd like that very much,” I told the ambassador. And I did - it'd be a pretty amazing experience I'm sure. This was a man who had played a pivotal role in the development of the Federation into what it was today. Maybe he'd be able to answer some of my questions about why certain things were the way they were. As a Vulcan, and not a human, he might have a more objective, outsider perspective, on many issues that had stymied my understanding.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a brief flash of jealousy or annoyance on the Captain's face. As I didn’t want to annoy the Captain (for obvious reasons), I decided to wrap it up.

After excusing myself, I sat down. I was still able to overhear the rest of the conversation.

“Commander Data will be our featured soloist this evening,” Picard said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“I have been programmed to reproduce the individual musical styles of over three hundred concert violinists, including Heifetz, Menuhin, Grak-tay and Tataglia. Do you have a preference?” Data asked. While he said it in a monotone, I almost got the impression he was almost like a sports car, revving up its engine, getting ready for the green light so he could put pedal to the metal.

“Tataglia would be lovely,” Perrin said.

“I hope you find the performance pleasing,” Data said.

“I look forward to it,” Perrin replied.

Picard motioned toward the stage, “At your convenience, Mister Data.”

We all began to sit down. I had noticed that everyone seemed to be paying attention to the ambassador, almost unconsciously orienting around him, even while they were talking to someone else. People treated Sarek as if he was some kind of famous celebrity, yet he was a peacemaker and diplomat rather than, say, a professional athlete or famous Hollywood actor from my time. It seemed that what humans considered ‘fame'’ and what they celebrated/revered had changed greatly over the last few hundred years.

The concert soon began with Data and three other musicians performing a selection of classical music. With my new enhanced hearing, I was able to tell that the android's performance was absolutely flawless. In fact, it was a little _too good_. I suppose one could ask: ‘How can something be too good?’ Well, the answer is a bit subjective I guess, but as I see it, every musician has a certain style, a rhythm that changes due to different emphasis, different emotions at work during each performance. Data didn’t have that, even when modifying his play style into different famous violinists.

While it was certainly recognizable as music, I wouldn’t want to listen to it again if I could avoid it. What I heard was an audible example of the ‘uncanny valley’ – a phenomenon where an artificial being (a robot or computer-generated figure) is so close to looking human that it somehow begins to look almost inhuman, causing revulsion in the person viewing it. It happened most often when looking at an artificial depiction of a face, and our minds somehow notices the wrongness of it, no matter how good a rendering. My enhanced senses were a double-edged sword in this instance, telling me that something was wrong here, something unnatural.

Sarek seemed to appreciate it, but his entourage looked almost worried, especially when, during a particularly moving moment in the music, Sarek shed a tear that his wife wiped away. I felt a bit saddened by that tear – Sarek seemed like a pretty good dude, and to lose control over yourself like that, as a Vulcan? For it now to dictate the future course of your life and possibly stand in the way of completing the crowning achievement of your career, in the final moments? I sympathized.

In fact, I sympathized too much. I left the concert feeling a bit down. I had been letting fate dictate my path far too much since I got here, and it was time to take some control back, even if that control was ultimately an illusion.

**XXXXX**

**Guest Quarters. U.S.S.** _Enterprise_ **.**

I returned to my quarters and got changed into my casual wear. I stood in front of the mirror, just looking at my suit, thinking about how much it would have cost if I had bought it from a store and then had it personally altered by a tailor to get that perfect fit. A designer suit like that is already expensive, but add in the fee for tailoring, it might have cost more than $10,000 and week or two to be finished in my time. Now, though, a couple of hours of research in Earth’s historical database and eventual design, and maybe 5 seconds to replicate. A good percentage of the total time was simply because this was my first time ever doing anything like this. The next time it’d probably go much faster since I now understood the process better. It was actually great practice for the future overall since I had plans to build things.

The advent of replicators must have been an incredible force for change (and for disruption) with just about every aspect of life altered by this device. I wondered how people lived in a society where it seems that their every need was just a replicator command away. The ability to supply life sustaining substance alone, like food and water, must have been a miracle. No longer were vast tracts of land and hard labor by farmers required, no longer were water treatment plants and dangerous chemicals needed.

And that was just food and water. In my time, taking an idea from paper to reality took a lot of time, effort, and money, including expensive and time-consuming fabrication. You’d need so many things to get it right, like the right materials, skilled people, the right machines and tooling - the list went on and on. Here, it was interactive computer aided virtual design and with the press of a button you’d have the ability to cheaply make practically anything. For an engineer like myself it was mind boggling and a source of endless inspiration. It was the kind of thing that could change and disrupt and possibly destroy an entire society if introduced too quickly. If such a thing came about in my time, before we were ready for it, it would have destroyed the world economy and probably ended the species. And I don’t think that’s hyperbole.

While I was on the subject of change and disruption, where was I going to live once I got to Earth? How would I even support myself?

This wasn’t the first time I had been wondering about my future, financial or otherwise, particularly since I figured getting even a small warp-capable shuttle second hand would be an expensive endeavor. Luckily, though, that trader guy who had found my pod hadn't just decided to keep me on display, like a living antique, he'd also taken and kept all of my possessions as well, which had seemingly been found with my body wherever he had found me. What the circumstances were there, I had no idea. I don’t even know why he kept it all. Maybe he felt like if you had the guy you should have his things? Or maybe they helped better prove my extradimensional and historical origins? Or maybe they were antiques worthy of display in their own right? Who knows and who cares? Bottom line, centuries old random things and pieces of technology from an alternate Earth, especially from during a time when this dimension’s Earth was so disrupted by war and humanity’s near extinction, were worth a lot of money to some people.

I had been shocked at the full inventory of things that had been found on the man’s ship. It was like my ROB/Godly patron (whoever the fuck they were) had taken the full contents of my apartment on Earth and sent them along for the ride to this new dimension. Seriously, _like_ _everything_ , from my toaster, to the ice cube trays in my freezer (and my freezer), to my TV and all my games, books, music, and movies that I had once owned. You know, just the things you end up accumulating throughout your life and use to fill your home. My Star Trek DVDs were conspicuously absent, thank goodness.

The trader's ship had been impounded and everything that was determined to be stolen or acquired unlawfully or immorally had been returned to their rightful owners, and that included all my old stuff. I had little use for it now, so I decided to sell most of it off when we reached Betazed. The trade conference being hosted there was important, and would be attended by many legitimate business people, organizations, and the ultra-rich. My plan was to put it all up for auction. Hopefully, people would be interested enough to bid big.

I had big plans for the proceeds from this auction, even beyond eventually acquiring a ship of my own one day. One plan was to use my foreknowledge to invest wisely and make that money work for me, other plans were designing certain things that would need a lot of resources to see come to fruition.

My schemes were many, and should things go as I predicted, I'd be a very wealthy man in time. Not that money alone was my motivation. Money simply made things easier and would grant me more options, including a greater chance for survival in a hostile universe. Part of me also wanted to prove to everyone that Augments could be successful in life without becoming genocidal megalomaniacs bent on conquest, but the demands of survival, especially with the wars I knew were coming in the years to come, took priority.

I'd started by designing things like advanced body armor, personal shields, and weapons in my head. I was too paranoid to put anything on a computer that I didn’t own, but my Augment mind and eidetic memory made virtual design a very real thing. It still would have been faster and easier on a computer, with a holo-display, Iron Man-style, but needs must and all that. Once I got to Earth, I could see what my options were.

I had so many ideas, but one thing that my military service had proven the value of time and time again, and something that I knew would be useful even in this time, was personal body armor. From what I'd learned so far, the many species of the alpha quadrant rarely used it, which, of course, was just crazy to me. I'd discovered that while the stuff did exist, in a primitive fashion, Starfleet, for example, didn't use it. I had asked why, and was given a look like it was obvious and I was an idiot for even asking such a dumb question.

After pressing them for an answer, I was told, in as condescending a fashion as you can imagine, that the primary purpose of Starfleet was peaceful exploration, making friends with alien races, and all that good hippy stuff, and that armor wasn’t needed for such a mission. I suppose the primary reason they didn't wear any sort of armor, even if it was a great idea that would save lives, was that it projected an image of hostility, an image that essentially said they expected combat and violence, thus making Starfleet appear overly militaristic.

Which made _some_ sense, I suppose. At heart these people were more explorers and scientists than soldiers. Sure, Starfleet was structured like a military organization, with a similar rank and command hierarchy, but in truth the defense of the Federation was a secondary objective for them, a role they reluctantly took on. They didn't think about going out of their way to protect themselves from the people they met as they fundamentally wanted to trust them and ultimately lacked the heart and will to truly win a fight by killing their enemies, even during a war. Sure, they’d fight when truly forced to, but that was it.

That seemed very foolish to me, especially with the amount of violent conflict they found themselves in _regularly_ , but it wasn't as if people from my society, who committed violent crimes on each other, went around day-to-day wearing body armor and carrying weapons either. Those that regularly carried weapons tended to be either criminals or police or military. So it wasn't strictly fair to judge. But, in my opinion, if Starfleet was going to act like a military in the way they were structured and (reluctantly) took on that role when called upon to fight the Federation’s battles, then they should act like it too.

The problem I had to overcome when designing _unshielded_ body armor was that it was ultimately useless against modern energy weapons, like phasers and disruptors, if those weapons were set to a high enough level. If set high enough they were capable of entirely vaporizing a humanoid body with a single shot. It took around three gigajoules to entirely vaporize a person and that was more than enough to completely melt 5,000 pounds of steel, so no type of unshielded body armor could protect a person from a phaser set on maximum, though it would delay things a bit, or prevent a glancing shot from instantly vaporizing them.

However, that didn't mean wearing the stuff was completely pointless; while a phaser set on vaporize would kill me no matter what unshielded armor I wore, it was possible to create armor that could prevent me from being stunned or even killed by a low to medium-high power shot. Even during wartime soldiers of this time rarely set their weapons that high given how quickly it would deplete the weapon's power cell in only a few shots. The armor would also be useful in dealing with stabbing weapons or less advanced projectile weapons. I also had vague plans to make the armor fully airtight with a corresponding retractable facemask and independent air supply and recycler. That would give me protection from poisonous gasses and from being spaced, either purposefully or accidentally. Ideally the armor would detect a poison or sudden decompression and automatically deploy the full armor, but that would require something akin to a virtual intelligence control system with its own sensor suite to detect the dangerous conditions and act accordingly and independently. That was a long, long way off.

The extremely high cost per unit was another issue and a big part of why body armor wasn't standard among this quadrant's armed forces. Many of the needed materials were rare and could not be replicated, and thus had to be mined or refined the old-fashioned way, but I could afford to have something custom made just for myself.

What was even more useful, especially when used in conjunction with advanced body armor, was a personal energy shield. It was doable with this time’s technology, but the power and material requirements for such devices were staggering, and even the resource rich Federation could never afford to mass produce the devices for their people, but again, just making one, while extremely expensive, wasn't impossible. The wealthy trader who'd kept me in my pod had possessed a personal shield of his own, so me having one wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, and nor was it illegal to possess. A personal shield would allow me to survive even a few of those high-power phaser/disruptor shots meant to vaporize me. The shield and the armor together would grant me multiple levels of protection.

Another cool thing that I was working on in my head, was making blades with advanced Trek metals. The Klingons already did this to some degree, those Bat'leths were not made from metals that existed in my time, but humans had never tried to recreate medieval weapons with the better metallurgy and materials technology this time offered. I was so looking forward to finding out if I could build a power sword like those in Warhammer 40K or a sword with disruption field technology.

Of course, this was all a bit premature; I couldn’t make any of these ideas a reality, yet, couldn’t even input them into a computer I currently had access to lest I risk discovery, but each day brought these plans in my head a bit further. The more and more I learned of this time’s science and technology, the better refined they became, and the quicker these designs went from pie-in-the-sky to something far more doable.

Once I got my education up to modern standards and acquired the technology necessary to design and fabricate these things, I’d be able to build a few prototypes to test their effectiveness and refine their designs. Unfortunately, I had a suspicion that the tech I needed was going to require a lot of money to acquire. Of course, I didn’t even know how to do that in this time. If I were back in my world and time you could buy a computer virtually anywhere, from a store or online. You could download and pay for a license for some AutoCAD design software. There were providers you could hire to build things off a design for you. How did you do all that stuff in this time and yet avoid the relevant authorities learning about it and getting the wrong idea?

Fuck, I still didn’t even know how ‘money’ worked in this time and dimension yet! At the moment I had only vague suspicions from the show as to how money worked in the Federation and with the other alpha quadrant races. The shows had given a very faint explanation as to how things worked, with sometimes contradictory information from show to show.

Good lord, talk about putting the cart before the horse. I’ve been designing advanced weapons and armor in my mind before I even found out how money worked in this time. Let’s fix that as soon as possible and tell no one how big a dumbass I could still be.

Sitting down at my computer with a delicious fruit smoothie in hand, one made with several alien fruits Beverly had recommended, I started my research on unraveling the mystery that was the Federation’s economy and its use of money, a mystery that had stymied many fans of the shows who only looked at the canon television series and movies to figure it out. There were various games, reference books, and novels that had tried to flesh it out and have it all make sense, but those hadn’t been ‘canon’ materials. No, the most we had to go by in canon were several off-hand and throwaway lines in episodes of Deep Space Nine that I seriously doubted the writers intended to be examined all that closely to discover the full implications of. TNG was practically bereft of any practical information on the subject, or even references beyond language like ‘we’ve moved beyond the need for such things.’

Several hours later I had more or less got a handle on how things worked. A long and very boring story short, the economics of the Federation was a convoluted mash up of bits and pieces of communism, socialism, meritocracy, and barter system, with a few dashes of capitalism if you looked hard enough. Every citizen of the Federation at birth was assigned what in my time would be considered a debit account - of course the ‘money’ assigned to a minor child would be under the control and management of the parents. Every month, a pre-designated amount was distributed to each household/individual in the form of credits (more for a child, less for an adult, who, in theory, could work to earn more), which could be spent as they saw fit on various things that were not provided by the government for free. For example, if you wanted a violin to learn how to play, you could spend a certain amount of your assigned credits to replicate that violin. Or if you wanted to use a holodeck, you could pay for that time with credits.

Communal access replicators were everywhere, scattered around most Federation planets. They provided basic food, clothing, and medicine entirely for free. Medical care, shelter, and access to the 24th century version of the internet (Galactic Information Network or GIN, for short) were also free, provided by the government to all its citizens. A set number of transporter travel rations were also given to each citizen per month, for free. All this was basically just for showing up and being lucky enough to be born in the Federation. If you actually contributed to society (in various ways), your monthly allotment of credits got bigger, which could be spent on luxury goods, better housing, more transporter usage, travel to other worlds, etc. Purchasing a small in-home replicator was another thing you could buy if you amassed enough credits. At that point you were only paying for energy. It took time to amass the large amount of credits to purchase a replicator for a home, but many households in the Federation were able to afford it given enough time and savings, which spoke of the high standard of living most Federation citizens enjoyed.

Not all things could be replicated, however, as some things required exotic non-replicable materials, or required elaborate refinement, or the cost of replication was far exceeded by more traditional mining operations. The replicators themselves also required a lot of power, and those fusion or anti-matter power generators needed something to run off of, which is where things like ores and exotic metals and materials get added into the equation as they need to be found, developed, and/or produced.

I honestly wasn’t quite sure how their values got calculated within the Federation itself, but I got the impression that a lot of the Federation economy was somewhat imaginary – having little to no real value, mostly acting like some sort of resource shell game… and apparently I wasn’t alone in this, as many species outside the Federation did not accept credits as currency (at least directly). In my time, there were commodities markets for all manner of materials that helped set the price of things. From a one-time reference in an episode of DS9, I knew there was a such a commodities market for dilithium, a market that Quark was monitoring as he had investments there, so there might be more such markets out there that the Federation was taking its cues from.

The Federation credit was a fiat money, as opposed to a form of hard money/currency, or commodity money, like several races in the alpha quadrant used. The Ferengi, for example, used gold-pressed latinum, a hard money currency, as the basis for their economy and was their standard currency of choice in all their transactions. Latinum is a critical, and most importantly, non-replicable component used in many technologies’ quadrant-wide and is a critical component in the construction of replicators themselves. It is an extremely refined and liquidized form of platinum that is usually suspended in gold for easy transfer (the gold itself is nearly worthless since it can be easily replicated). The Ferengi used this form of currency because items now had an agreed upon value, which made transactions between themselves and different species much easier as many advanced races highly valued latinum.

Watching DS9 I had always wondered how the many Starfleet personnel stationed there had been able to easily pay Quark for drinks, gambling, and their use of his holosuites. Now it made more sense, all of them received their monthly allotment of Federation credits, which were also increased substantially by virtue of serving in Starfleet and then again by whatever rank they’d reached. According to my research, many races, especially those who maintain a trade relationship with the Federation, will accept Federation credits as payment for goods and services. For those races who did not, many banks and other institutions offer currency exchange services for a small fee. Given the amount of business Quark did with Federation citizens, he might have been accepting credits directly, or more likely, offered his own marked up currency conversion from credits to gold pressed latinum. His Federation customers probably didn’t even realize he was doing it, or might not even have cared.

Fundamentally, the citizens of the Federation simply didn't care about money in the same way the people from my time did, earning it wasn’t necessary to _survive,_ which really did fundamentally change the pursuit of it. No one was going homeless, or hungry, or unable to pay for medical care due to lack of money. Making money didn’t motivate them to go to work each day, no, money was just something they used when they had to. They didn’t even have monthly bills in the sense I was used to. No car payment, no rent or mortgage bill to pay, no food bills, no expenses for health care. That sounded pretty damn nice on many levels and was an achievement to be proud of. Don’t get me wrong, I still wanted to be rich as fuck, but they did have a lot to be proud of, maybe even a _bit_ smug about.

I spoke with Counselor Troi and she helped arrange for me to get the debit account every Federation citizen enjoyed, the one the Federation funded for all humans. This turned into quite an ordeal with much jumping through hoops because it turned out I was in a sort of legal gray area. On the one hand, I was human and had been born on Earth, a founding world of the Federation no less and thus a Federation citizen. On the other, I had been born on an Earth in a different dimension, in a time before the Federation ever existed. Oh, and I was an Augment. It would take time for my status to be figured out, but in the meantime, it was sort of implied that I should be treated like a citizen by virtue of being a human born on Earth, even if my status was somewhat dubious as the laws did not exactly take into account my exotic origins.

Turning my thoughts away from money matters, recent events had been bothering me. As I had already realized, my knowledge of this dimension and the timeline of events couldn’t be truly counted on fully. The Angosian affair, for example, had occurred at slightly the wrong time, but it had occurred. Had the Federation even met the Borg yet? Had the Battle of Wolf 359 already occurred? While I obviously couldn’t get into the ship’s logs, I did ask several crew members and permanent civilian residents onboard, that I had become friendly with, about the various adventures the ship had been involved in. I had to walk a very fine line here in my questioning so as to not hint that I was searching for specific pieces of information. Every word I spoke was probably being recorded and reviewed after all. The crew I talked to had been happy to share, eager even, but it’s what they _didn’t_ _say_ that alarmed me.

The biggest warning about the Borg should have happened about a year or so ago, when Q (a god-like being who seemed dead-set on testing both humanity as a whole and Picard’s patience), sent the _Enterprise_ into a distant area of space where they would meet the Borg, and hopefully realize the true horrors the galaxy had to offer. Only… _the whole thing had seemingly never happened_. Even if the crew had been lying to me, or even if such an encounter had been marked as a secret so dire that no one was to speak of it, there were still enough civilians on the ship that it couldn’t have remained hidden for so long, yet a search on the GIN found no mention of the Borg – not even on conspiracy sites. And yes, sites like that still existed in the 24th century.

This changed everything… what else was different in this dimension? There was only one way to settle this.

While it had never come up in conversation, I knew there was one woman who knew the Borg intimately, who could tell me if they still existed, and who was on this ship – Guinan. In the TV Show universe, the Borg had annihilated her homeworld, leaving just a smattering of broken people to wander the galaxy. If anyone would know if the Borg were around, it would be her, but I would have to open some old wounds to get my answers and the danger to me was also quite real if I fucked this up – I could tell this was going to suck.

**XXXXX**

**Ten Forward. U.S.S.** _Enterprise_ **.**

I entered Ten Forward when I knew there would be few if any people around – this was not a conversation I wanted to have with others around. I took a seat at the bar and Guinan joined me soon after.

“Hey Guinan,” I said, trying to project normality and calmness.

“Gothic,” she offered in greeting, a small smile on her face, “your usual?”

“Please,” I said, and she poured me a club soda with a knowing smirk on her face. Of course, it was club soda - after drinking that sweet nectar of the gods, I couldn’t go back to that swill called synthehol. No, my palate had been blessed by Aldebaran whiskey and Romulan Ale and the contrast with this fake booze was terrible.

When I had decided I wouldn’t be drinking synthehol I tried to find a number of non-alcoholic drinks from my time instead, something to remind me of home. Color me fucking shocked when virtually every soft drink (besides Coke) had been lost to time. Even some liquors were gone! Some had never even been created in this dimension because of its different history, others had been lost because of the war, some couldn’t be recreated because the various things that it had been made from had gone extinct! Even some of the things that had survived humanity’s near extinction were copies made from drinks and foods that had been found intact but were long after their ideal use date, so the flavor was significantly different from what I remembered. Humanity had lost a lot during those terrible years. It was pretty sad actually.

Apparently Guinan saw my hesitation, but waited for me to speak after I took a sip.

“Guinan, I got some good news today,” I said, pretending to be cheerful. “I created and sold a holoprogram – looks like I’m more than just good looks after all.”

“Ha!” Guinan said. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Don’t hate me ‘cause I’m beautiful,” I shot back. I mentally took a deep breath – I knew it was cruel of me to do this, but I had to know.

“This program did so well that I’m thinking of making another one,” I said, taking the plunge. “My last one was a racer, based on a game and a set of movies that I loved from my dimension. Since interest in movies from my time are so intriguing to the 24th century consumer, I was thinking of writing more programs along those lines, like how 20th and 21st century Earth imagined the future to be like. There was a television series called Battlestar Galactica, where humans created AI and gave birth to a race of machine warriors that they used to fight their wars for them. Eventually, as these dystopian visions of the future always go, the race of machines rebel, turning against their creators and nearly wipe out humanity. There were also the Terminator movies, where humans again create an AI who decides to kill their creator, and that AI creates these robotic killer cyborgs to wipe out humanity and they mostly succeed--”

Guinan visibly shrank back at these descriptions, putting a hand on her heart. I needed to know if the Borg were present in this dimension, but I certainly couldn’t just say, ‘Yeah, I’m writing this new holoprogram featuring a deadly race of cyborg zombies I’ve decided to call the Borg’ and then wait for a reaction. How would I even know that word?? No, that would be a pretty big giveaway that I had knowledge of this dimension that I shouldn’t have and then Section 31 would have me on a dissection table…hence this really roundabout way of getting the information I needed and hoping it worked. If anyone checked, and I had no doubt Section 31 probably would, these fears about AI and dystopian imaginings of the future would almost certainly be present even in this dimension.

“What’s wrong? What did I say?” I pretended to not know, but her reaction told me everything. The Borg had existed at some point, and might still. Perhaps Q not flinging the _Enterprise_ where a Borg Cube would find them had just delayed the meeting. If so, the Federation would be even more unprepared to fight against them if they should come in the future… and I knew of at least three future threats that could potentially lead to the Federation’s downfall if the Feds did not pivot to a war footing or simply get their heads out of their asses and start realizing the galaxy was a hostile place and their continued existence was not by divine mandate. They would need to fight for their right to survive. Many true fans of the shows had long realized that Q putting the _Enterprise_ in the path of the Borg had been a gift to the Federation, and may have even been Q’s attempt at snapping the Federation out of its complacency with what the entity knew about the future, giving them a slightly better chance to survive.

Guinan sat down hard, almost visibly aging before my eyes. She was silent for a time, before finally speaking, “A race of cyborgs like your people envisioned in their darkest imaginings of the future is real in this dimension. They were called The Borg. Monsters that appeared from the void and descended upon entire worlds, assimilating both technology and people before destroying all that was left. My homeworld… I wasn't there at the time, but from what I'm told, they swarmed through our system... and when they left, there was little or nothing left of my people. It was like they had never existed.”

She paused to collect herself. Through sheer force of will, her face schooled itself into her normal, neutral look - like a mask had come over her features. Suddenly she was Guinan the host again with only a slight tremble to her lips that showed the raging storm beneath the calm shell.

She began to speak, but her voice broke, so she stopped and tried again. “Eventually, an alliance of powerful and advanced races was formed to stop the Borg, pushing them back system by system until the last Borg Cube was wiped from the face of the galaxy. Many of these races did not survive the war.”

Wow, that was a serious difference from the shows I’d seen. If a butterfly flapping its wing could cause a hurricane, what might be the result of a species as significant as the Borg not being around?

“I’m sorry, Guinan, maybe I shouldn’t—"

She cut me off with a gesture. She took a deep breath and continued. “No, I’m sorry. Your words simply brought up painful memories for me. You couldn’t know. I’ve spent years onboard this ship, years with the Federation and even longer living on Earth getting to know humanity. Maybe your programs will remind the Federation that the galaxy is a cold and hard place and that a bit of fear can be a good thing, especially when there are true horrors out there.”

We spent the rest of the evening in silence. Her, remembering painful memories, and I, feeling like an asshole for hurting her, knowing from the outset that this would be painful for her. But it was too important a thing for me to remain ignorant about. I didn’t know what to do or say so I just sat there feeling guilty, but knowing I would do it again even after seeing the effect on her.

She eventually went to bed, and I did the same. I lay in bed for a while wondering if I should have tried to comfort her somehow, but I wasn’t sure if there had been anything I could have said or done to undo the hurt I caused her. That night was the first time I had a nightmare since I arrived on the _Enterprise_ – dark dreams of a once beautiful world, now a destroyed wasteland, covered in crumbling ruins and rotting corpses.

**XXXXX**

**Guest Quarters. U.S.S.** _Enterprise_ **.**

For the first time in this new body, I woke up feeling tired. That nightmare had really taken the wind out of my sails and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to get up or just stay in bed longer. Unfortunately, no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t fall asleep when I had so much to do, so I gave up. After I finished my morning routine and grabbed something to eat, I sat down with a steaming cup of hot chocolate to think about what I had learned yesterday. On the one hand, the Borg were not something I would wish on my worst enemy – a seemingly unstoppable foe that could adapt to virtually every action taken against them. Your enemy was not made up of individuals with competing interests, but a hive mind made up of billions, and when they defeated you, death wasn’t even the worst fate that could await you. I’d rather put a phaser in my mouth and pull the trigger before allowing that to happen.

On the other hand, they had been a known quantity and had served a vital role in scaring the Federation out of its complacency, at least for a time, which had led to the design and building of the Defiant-class ship, the Federation’s first warship, and the upgrade of planetary defenses all around the Federation itself. What that meant for the Dominion War, I had no freaking idea. But you know what worried me the most? Nature abhorred a vacuum, and fate was a vengeful bitch. How many species had the Borg assimilated or destroyed over the centuries in the Show Timeline whose counterparts in this timeline were monsters in their own right, and who now had nothing stopping them from conquering and destroying others.

I hated to admit it, but there was nothing I could do about the situation except doing what I had already been doing - studying and training. So that’s what I did. It was at times like this that I rather irrationally wished I could just experience the whole thing in a minute-long training montage and get it over with. Unfortunately, that’s not the way real life worked.

While it may have seemed like the journey to Earth was taking forever, that was only because movies and TV usually skipped the long delays between one scene and the next unless something important happened during that time – as it was, only three weeks had passed since I first woke up on the _Enterprise_ , which was currently traveling at a sedate optimal cruising speed of Warp 6 (the most efficient fuel-to-speed ratio that a ship as large as the _Enterprise_ can achieve), as there was no pressing need or emergency that required them to push the engines harder. To top it off, while space is indeed a void, it is not exactly empty, which makes traveling in a direct path usually impossible – usually due to natural and unnatural obstacles and events that kept popping-up, usually too minor to have ever been portrayed on the TV show, but which caused delay after delay that could change the arrival date by hours, days, and even weeks.

My daily schedule was mostly set by this time. Days usually began with me waking up around 0100-0300, depending on when I went to bed. After a quick shower and a hearty breakfast that would have led anyone else to a lifetime of obesity, I studied for about 5-6 hours before having second breakfast. When the morning duty shift started, I spent about 2 hours in the holodeck, a mix of exercise, martial training, and training programs to operate, maintain, and pilot a starship.

I did manage to find multiple martial arts training programs that were really interesting, many of them from Earth, like Kung Fu, Muay Thai, Escrima, Ninjutsu, and Krav Maga. Vulcan and Klingon martial arts training programs were also in the _Enterprise_ database, but I actually started with Tai Chi. Tai Chi was ideal for someone like me, as it allowed me to train my mind so that I could learn to better control my new body, as I still felt at times like I wasn’t reaching the full potential my enhancements were capable of.

Afterwards, it was back to studying for another 5-6 hours and lunch. I then usually spent another 2 hours in the holodeck, but this time was more fun and relaxing, and was dedicated to developing new holoprogram ideas. I usually took the evenings off, spending it in Ten Forward, as this was usually the most interesting time there, with most of the main characters from TNG showing up after their duty shifts ended. It might seem like I was wasting time doing this, but I had a limited window of opportunity to pick the brains of one of the most decorated Starfleet crews in the Federation, and I learned a lot from their stories. If you made it onto the _Enterprise_ then you were the best of the best. Over the next week or so, I saw or met most of the command crew (which made my inner nerd squee), but the reality was a bit different then I had hoped.

I certainly wasn’t expecting that we would all get along and be BFF’s for life, but the reality was still a disappointment.

Captain Picard showed up every now and then, and while we did have a couple of very interesting conversations about life in the late 20th and early 21st century, as he did fancy himself a historian and archaeologist, that stopped rather abruptly once he saw me having a romantic dinner with Beverly. He always seemed just a little bit uncomfortable with me after that, but I figured that was probably because he had been carrying a torch for Beverly for years and years, but could never quite take the plunge and ask her out. Late season episodes of TNG indicated that it was a combination of the rank and longtime guilt that he had harbored feelings for his dead best friend’s wife (even before the man had died), that had stopped him. It had taken an episode where Picard and Beverly had been sharing thoughts via a mental link that the truth accidentally came out, _finally_. I felt bad about his dilemma, as he had treated me well and given me a lot more leeway than I would have if the situation was reversed, but not enough to stop seeing Beverly. I’m sure the issue would work itself out once I left the ship.

Worf, though, even after it had been definitively proven that I wasn’t from this dimension, seemed to believe that if he took his eyes off me for even a second, I would start shouting “Get in my belly!”, somehow unhinge my jaw, and try to eat all the defenseless children of the _Enterprise_. Upon entering Ten Forward, he would try and sit as far away from me as possible, his back never facing me, as if hoping that when I would slip up (and of course it was only a matter of time) he would be there to try and take me down – key word being ‘try’. Honestly, I was more amused than angry really, and I liked to wave at him jauntily with a big smile on my face just to be as annoying as possible. I had been so very, very tempted to modify the enemies in his holodeck training program into indestructible giant teddy bears that would loudly yell that they only wanted to be hugged, but I thought that that might be a bit much.

I finally met Riker one night, and some of his behavior on the bridge became more understandable. Riker was a very personable guy, with charm and charisma practically oozing out of every pore, but if he thought someone was a danger to the ship or its inhabitants – that’s when he became _Commander_ Riker and it became very hard to work your way back from that. Guinan had told me in confidence that the only reason Riker had even allowed me on the bridge, without it filled to the brim with heavily armed security personnel, was that she hadn’t been able to recognize me from her time on Earth. It seemed like he wasn’t sure how to act around me now, cold and distant one moment and warm and friendly the next… although beating him at three-dimensional chess, three times in a row, probably hadn’t helped matters. The guy in the show seemed like he’d normally be a good sport about such a thing, but maybe my winning reminded him of the famed superiority-complex of the Augments of Earth’s Eugenics Wars. I always acted a good sport about it, I thought, never gloating over my victories.

La Forge was OK, but his work was his life and his life was his work – I think he even dreamed about engineering obstacles to overcome. He did have a pretty good sense of humor, and I did pick up some interesting tidbits that he dropped inadvertently here and there, but a lot of what he talked about was still seriously over my head. In secret, I was using our conversations as a sort of unofficial benchmark of my own comprehension on starship engineering - the more I understood about what the hell he was talking about, the more I knew that I was making progress and thus on the right track. With my enhanced memory, in a few weeks’ time, I could review these conversations once again to see if it made more sense.

Data was probably the most interesting of them all, as he could literally modify his behavior as he saw fit – and he was a good sounding board for some of my tech ideas, so I hoped to keep that going even when I got off the ship. I even got to meet the famous Spot, his cat from the show, although it seemed something about me made her uncomfortable and she wouldn’t let me pet her. I had a suspicion as to why… and further suspected that if Spot had been a dog, rather than a cat, it would have whined and rolled over onto its belly in my presence. Animals were far more in tune with their instincts and could recognize a dangerous predator when they saw one.

Troi and I got along very well, for the most part, but her inability to even consider that the Federation wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows annoyed me greatly. Still, she was very fun to be around and really did want to help me – being so very attractive certainly didn’t hurt either.

Beverly Crusher was my most common dinner companion. Unfortunately, that’s usually all it was because as soon as we sat down to eat, I could see Wesley keeping her in view (he could give a hawk lessons) - so slipping away for even a quickie wasn’t possible. Still, she did have fun teasing me. It was all in good fun since I did the same to her – who knew that she had such a wicked sense of humor underneath that serious exterior? I did arrange for a date on the holodeck and took her dancing, as I knew from an episode of TNG that she had studied and won competitions in tap and jazz dance. I had even gotten her to admit that she had once been nicknamed ‘The Dancing Doctor’, to her embarrassment.

While I was a decent dancer before coming to this dimension, I had brushed up on more traditional styles when I started arranging this date. I was continually amazed at how my enhancements had improved my coordination, flexibility, and ability to learn new things, especially physical skills that had thwarted my best efforts in my old life. The dancing, surprisingly, had helped me even further with footwork and coordination, but I preferred a more martial-based training method, as dancing alone wasn’t enjoyable for me.

Apparently, taking her dancing had been exactly the right move, since we went back to her quarters and she practically turned me inside out. Unfortunately, just as I finished roughly pounding her pussy doggy-style to two separate orgasms, just like she really liked, when who else but Wesley _fucking_ Crusher walked in to her bedroom when he was supposed to be working on a school project somewhere else. With another outraged, “Mother! How could you?!” he ran out yet again. Honestly, I think we were giving to give him some sort of psychological scarring because I saw him later in Ten Forward trying to convince Guinan to let him drink synthehol.

Yeah, seeing your mother getting banged like drum (tribal rhythm), wasn’t exactly on anybody’s list of experiences they wanted, but how about don’t walk into your mother’s bedroom without knocking first? And considering the number of years his mother had been alone, wouldn’t he have wanted her to find someone and be happy? The kid had some serious growing up to do yet. Maybe some time away from his mother and living on his own at the Academy would help in that regard. I know I certainly grew up a lot while in the military and on deployment.

I thought about trying to mend fences with Wesley, especially if he eventually became some kind of uber-powerful near ascended being like he had in canon TNG, but I was leaving the ship soon, so why make waves when I didn’t have to?

Some of the crew I made a point to also meet and befriend was Miles O’Brien and his future wife, Keiko Ishikawa, who he wasn’t even dating at the moment. At the moment, O’Brien was just another chief petty officer on the ship, but in the future he would be the Chief of Operations on Deep Space 9, a space station that would become one of the most important nexuses of galactic events in all the alpha quadrant.

Keiko was currently a botanist and head of the plant biology lab on the _Enterprise._ In the future, though, she would have a pivotal role on the station, as the teacher of a secular school on a station filled with extremely religious Bajoran natives. An opportunist would use xenophobia and religious unrest to arrange for the school to be bombed, hoping that this would set the stage for the assassination of a political rival. I wasn’t sure if these events would still happen, but being friendly with them now couldn’t hurt. Not that being their friend was exactly a hardship – O’Brien could spin a tale with the best of them, and Keiko’s work with plants was surprisingly interesting. Keiko also, I learned, had a submissive streak a mile-wide and could fuck like a champ when you got her motor running. Hopefully, O’Brien wouldn’t be weird about it if we met again after they got married. Some guys were rather uncomfortable around their wives’ previous sexual partners.

As for Guinan, while she didn’t let it show much, I knew she was in pain after I had brought up some rather old memories about her homeworld and what the Borg had done to it. I had apologized for it once again, and assured her that I wouldn’t bring it up again, but that didn’t seem to help much. I knew I needed to make this right, so I went out on the GIN and posted a request on several forums for any El-Aurians to get in touch with me for a new holo-project I was working on. It took a while, as well as a lot of time, effort, and credits to finish, but I felt it was worth the expense. When it was complete, I asked Guinan to meet me at the holodeck and I gave her my surprise gift: a holographic reproduction of a famous landmark on the El-Aurian homeworld that they had considered almost holy. Some of her people had had pictures and sensor records that had survived till this day.

I hadn’t been sure if my burgeoning holo-programming skills had been up to the task, but judging by Guinan’s reaction, I had nailed it. I let her know that this was her holoprogram now, that she could share it with anyone she liked, like a little piece of her home. She reached out and took my hand and that’s how we spent that afternoon – just standing in silence, with her drinking in the details, and me just being there for support. Eventually she even shared some touching stories from her childhood about her people. It was fascinating to hear about the culture of a truly long-lived race. There was a lot I might need to know considering my lifespan, assuming I wasn’t killed, could be extremely long.

She invited me back to the lounge and we polished off half a bottle of Romulan Ale, which I thought was a fantastic reward. Now I don’t know if it was the holoprogram or the bottle of alcohol, but one thing led to another, and I got a close look (and _touch_ and _taste_ ) of what Guinan had under her robes. The Guinan of this dimension was practically an Angela Basset lookalike and had the fit and attractive body to match. She was the first woman I had been with in this new body who had turned sexual intercourse into an art form - with every thrust, kiss, nibble, even gasp working together somehow to make as close to perfect sex as I had ever personally experienced or heard of. She taught me things I didn’t even know! At some point during the act she realized she didn’t need to take it easy on me, and boy did she stop holding back! Good thing I was an Augment with incredible natural stamina or she would have likely rendered me unconscious.

Thankfully, I think I had performed to her satisfaction, because there was no way I’d be happy with not leaving my bed partners fully blissed out and happy with the experience. Even days later, I still found myself blushing at the intensely erotic memories of that night. This new dominant streak in me, and the way it brought out the submissive in all my recent bed partners, was new and fun, and I was rather enjoying it, but there was something to be said about a several hundred year old beautiful woman who didn’t have a submissive bone in her body and had no problem taking what she wanted from me in the bedroom. Guinan and I were much closer after that evening, good friends now, but we both knew we were just passing ships in the night, and it didn’t turn into a regular thing.

All in all, things were about as good as they could realistically get. The final leg of our journey was approaching and I was told the _Enterprise_ would be stopping at Betazed for some sort of trade conference. Of course, as soon as we arrived, that’s when things began to go off the rails.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to or part of Star Trek. This fan fiction was written purely for fun.

**July 2020 Author’s Note:**

**Happy 4 th of July to all my friends in the United States! I’m back! I’ve received all your messages asking for this fic to come back. The pandemic and a new baby for my wife and I sucked up all my time and energy, so this story’s updates suffered. Hopefully, now that things have settled down a bit in my life, I can get a good update schedule going. I’m flattered by the many messages I received asking me to update, but if you’re going to send a message like that, then you better be reviewing each chapter of the story. :-)**

**Chapters 1-4 of this rewrite were** reorganized and co-written with at16908.

**The Adventures of Augment Gothic**

**Chapter 4 – A butterfly flaps its wings…fuck it, should I choke a bitch?**

**Ten Forward. U.S.S.** _**Enterprise** _ **.**

The biennial Trade Agreements Conference was apparently a very big thing, and it seemed everyone who was anyone was invited to this shindig, even the Ferengi. My plan to auction all my old stuff had been a smashing success. With the vaunted _Enterprise_ crew itself confirming my origins and the authenticity of my stuff, the bidding got insane very quickly.

Interestingly enough, the various bits of archaic tech had fetched pretty high prices, even _my_ _toaster,_ hilariously enough. I could just totally see some ultra-rich guy toasting some bread at a fancy dinner party with my toaster and extolling how it came from Earth of an alternate dimension.

The items that had fetched the highest bids had been my computer/console games, music, movies and books that I had owned that had never been created in this dimension. A small bidding war had even started, ultimately driving the price up to ludicrous levels. So, I now had enough gold pressed latinum to make me feel like a rich man. In a moment of forethought, I had scanned and digitized (for later replication if I wanted), prior to the auction, everything that I wanted to keep, especially all the games, movies, music and books, and had hired a Federation lawyer specializing in intellectual property to legally claim all these artistic works as my own creations. It was made clear that the winning bidders were only getting the physical item. Since almost all of them hadn’t been made in this universe by the various authors and artists (some of whom had never even been born here), they were technically all my property and I could develop them as I saw fit. The buyers would get the originals, but they’d be legally prevented from developing them further, or creating new copies of their own.

The windfall from the auction of my stuff was substantial, but it was a one-off payday. I needed a steady and continuous revenue stream, something scalable. As I had recently discovered, artistic works from my dimension had incredible value in the modern day and I had almost an encyclopedic memory of my home dimension’s games, movies and music. Of course, not everything was going to translate well from culture to culture, so not everything would be able to jump across time and dimensions and still be hits, or even understood, without a whole lot more shared context to work with.

Then I remembered my TRON racing holoprogram. I had had a blast creating that program and set it to public access the last time I’d run it, on a whim. According to the computer at least fifty crew members had already run it (including Riker!), probably curious what kind of program an Augment from another dimension and time could/would create on the holodeck. Some of them had even sent me messages afterwards saying how much they enjoyed it. The infamous holoprogram junkie Miles O’Brien had even taken a serious shine to it, having told me it was his second favorite program now. I suppose nothing was going to take the top spot from the infamous river rapid kayak program of TNG fame. So, what the hell, maybe the people of the 24th century would enjoy holoprograms based on works created in my time. I could even carve out a niche for myself specializing in such works.

With that completed, I went on the GIN and began searching for information on how and where an amateur author/creator could sell the unique holoprograms they created. I eventually found myself on a type of web forum meant to give advice to new holo-authors just starting out. It was pretty interesting stuff and had a lot of information on how the industry functioned overall, and how it worked when you actually reached the big leagues and became an author whose work was distributed quadrant-wide by actual publishing houses.

At this point I’d be akin to an amateur author self-publishing their work in my time and putting it on Amazon for people to stumble upon and buy. The most established and popular authors would have publishing agents and big publishers to distribute their work. I was nowhere near that stage. After a couple of hours trying to see if anyone had come up with a similar program, I put a brief description on this web forum to gauge potential interest. I wasn’t too descriptive, just in case someone stole my idea, but I was shocked at the level of positive interest I received. It seems a program like mine, simple and action oriented, rather than high-brow literature, was incredibly different from the norm and was intriguing to many. With a positive response like that, I said fuck it and completed the legal steps necessary to copyright it, register it, and protect it from illegal duplication, before putting it up for purchase.

Color me surprised when my little holoprogram of Tron light cycle battles on an electronic grid took off like a rocket. I wouldn’t be getting rich off this one program, especially one so simple and thus priced accordingly, but I made a nice tidy sum and it looked like I was going to continue getting paid for some time to come. It also would get my name out there as a new author. I could even refine the program in the future and offer discounted updates to add new features, new grids, more story, better music and sounds, etc. The 2010 movie, Tron: Legacy, gave me plenty of ideas there. Since this program was essentially being self-published, I’d be getting the vast majority of the purchase price with no publisher involved to take their cut, but at the same time there would be no promotion for it, no marketing, no inclusion in the big catalogs of works offered outside of the Federation. It would be word of mouth for now, but who knows, maybe I’d attract a cult following.

I’ll admit to being tempted into deep diving into my memory of popular books, TV shows, and movies from my world to write holoprograms full time, if only for the credits, but that was a pipe dream. I was put here by my patron, a ROB, for some unknown reason, but I doubt it was because they were interested in seeing me become a successful author. They made me an Augment for a reason and dropped me in a universe only a short span of years away from a quadrant-wide war. There might be spare time to continue doing this, but the call of adventure in my blood was strong, and the demands of survival meant my time was better spent working on advanced armor design. Having a lot of money would certainly help my survival chances, but it was still secondary for the moment.

At the conclusion of the conference, a banquet was being held aboard the _Enterprise_ in Ten Forward, probably because as the flagship the Federation could show off how super advanced and powerful the ship was. Even the Federation wasn’t above trying to impress with so many independent worlds in attendance. Impressing them could mean better relations with the Federation, more trade, or ideally, for these planets to seek admission to the Federation themselves one day.

My time aboard the _Enterprise_ had introduced me to many different alien species during my time aboard - some good, some bad, but one race I had thankfully missed out on until just now were the Ferengi. And I could have happily continued to do so, but alas, fate was not on my side today as the Ferengi representative, DaiMon Tog, was just about every racist caricature that could be found about the Ferengi put into one supremely annoying individual. I had no idea how he had gotten to the rank of DaiMon, but Tog was incompetent, vain, greedy, and stupid – I could only guess that he must have had a very wealthy family pulling strings to get him this far.

The guy who set this up, a Betazoid named Reittan Grax, was circulating around the room, introducing himself to all the guests, although he did tend to stay away from the Ferengi, as they could not be read telepathically and that caused mental distress in Betazoids. I noticed that he and the other Betazoids were avoiding me as well, even visibly wincing when looking in my general direction, which I later learned was because they had the same issue with me. I guess my patron had set up some sort of barrier around my mind that was actively preventing my thoughts from being read by telepaths, most likely to keep them from discovering my knowledge about the future. That was supremely useful and was probably also the reason why Counselor Troi could not read my emotions without being in my direct presence.

Judging by how they were reacting, my mental defenses were quite powerful and possibly even aggressive in their defense of my mind. The winces indicated that even a casual, unconscious mental probe that Betazoids did as a matter of course, was responded to by mentally shaking them so badly that they couldn’t focus their abilities. For a race of telepaths, that silence, that forced solitude in their thoughts as their telepathy retracted entirely into their own heads, like a wounded animal, must have been disconcerting in the extreme. So, I took no offense at their avoidance of me. Of course, that didn’t prevent me from meeting… no, that’s the wrong word… _experiencing_ … yes, experiencing, Lwaxana Troi.

Lwaxana Troi was like a force of nature, to put it mildly. She could fill a room with her presence – a mixture of being larger-than-life, an almost theatrical flamboyance, and being extremely flirty. This universe’s version of Lwaxana looked more like a curvier, sexier, slightly more mature version of her daughter, Deanna. Her voice, which had been the voice of all Federation computers on the various shows, was also far prettier than what I had expected, but just about everything else personality-wise was the same. Apparently, due to her many travels as an ambassador for Betazed, encountering all manner of exotic races who could stymie her telepathy, Lwaxana had no problem being in my presence, in fact, I had a hard time keeping her at bay. Lwaxana was on the hunt to get her daughter Deanna a husband, and apparently my being an Augment from another dimension and time was not a deal breaker in her matchmaking attempts. She was also assiduously avoiding DaiMon Tog who was attempting to proposition her. My presence, for some reason, was even more effective at keeping the man at bay. She had at first tried using Captain Picard as a shield, but he ducked out of the way so fast you’d think his ass was on fire, and she settled on using me since I had no easy way to politely escape her clutches.

I stood there, like a deer caught in headlights, struggling to fend off her flirting, when I was rescued by the most unlikely of saviors – that poor, sweet, deluded fool, Tog, who has seemingly gotten over his fear of me. Maybe the Ferengi race had some leftover threat identification instincts from their species’ evolution that was flagging me as a predator to avoid at all costs?

“Lwaxana Troi,” Tog said. “I desire you.”

“What?” Lwaxana asked, quite confused, since tonight was the first time they had met, and she was a high-ranking Federation ambassador. Things like this weren’t supposed to be done in polite company, at least not by anyone other than her, who could only get away with it by acting charmingly eccentric.

“You see, your Betazoid skills would be very useful to me, and I find you very attractive,” he said, with the confidence that only idiots can have, especially entitled idiots who have mostly gotten what they wanted throughout their whole life. “I am willing to pay handsomely for you.”

“I don't believe this,” she said. I could certainly understand her – I couldn’t believe it either, but that didn’t stop me from using this distraction to slowly back away until I was behind Worf, who looked like he didn’t know what he should be doing right now, as this was a bit out of his expertise.

“You must be aware that every female has her price,” Tog continued, oblivious or just not caring that his statement visibly offended the woman he was talking to. For Ferengi women that might be true, but why would he think that applied to other species?

At this point I was about 50-50 on whether Lwaxana was going to strangle Tog or not, because her hands were clenching open and shut like they were itching to wrap themselves around the Ferengi’s small neck.

“Let's get one thing straight, little man,” she practically shouted. “I am Lwaxana Troi - Daughter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed, and I am NOT for sale. And if, by some chance I were to become available, I would rather eat Orion wing-slugs than deal with a toad-faced troll like you! So go away and find someone else to become your property.”

She then stormed out in a huff, and I’m sure she would have slammed a door if she could have (they only slide in and out of the walls). Her valet, Mr. Homn - a silent, tall, gray humanoid followed quickly after. The Ferengi didn’t stick around for long after that, and that’s when I remembered this whole disaster was from a rather forgettable episode of TNG called ‘Ménage à Troi’. The beginning of that episode had been mostly like this, except without myself of course. After getting humiliated by Lwaxana, Tog kidnaps her from the planet’s surface. Instead of waiting for the right moment, when she was alone for instance, he took her and Riker and Deanna too, who were having a romantic moment on the planet that Lwaxana had just interrupted – because of course she did. Lwaxana was like a trouble magnet – whenever she was around, an irritating disaster was just around the corner… waiting… watching… and then, when you least expect it, it strikes!

This fucker was seriously going to kidnap Lwaxana Troi, an extremely important and well-known ambassador, plus two Starfleet officers who happened to be there. What was the end game there?? The whole episode had never made much sense to me. There was literally a whole planet full of telepaths on Betazed, an entire race of them! They could have just found one who was willing to help Tog in his business dealings and hired them! Nothing illegal there. No race was truly monolithic, there would always be those who bucked the species mold and would take a well-paying job like that. There was literally no reason to kidnap anyone.

And because Lwaxana is an annoying menace to herself as well as others, the Ferengi doctor onboard Tog’s ship decides to use her as a test subject in order to figure out how Betazoid telepathy works in an apparently very invasive and painful procedure – Deanna being unsuitable since she is half-human, which had changed her mental abilities. She had been born an empath, rather than a telepath. Again, did any of this make sense? Did it seem likely the Federation or the Betazoid people themselves wouldn’t have studied their own physiology and abilities? Medical information like that wasn’t exactly secret. And again, just hire a telepath who was willing to play ball!

Eventually, Riker and Troi escape from their cell and send a signal that could be tracked by the _Enterprise_. Lwaxana then decides to sacrifice herself, and agrees to work for Tog if he sends Riker and Deanna back which he does. Wesley eventually figures out the signal Riker had sent, but doing so causes him to miss his ride to the academy exam –Wesley is then forced to delay his entrance to Starfleet by another year.

Soon, the _Enterprise_ catches up to Tog’s ship, and Picard is then forced to put on a truly cringe-worthy charade of ‘fighting’ for Lwaxana’s heart by quoting Shakespearean poetry, eventually threatening to destroy Tog’s ship because he’s so lovesick. Tog relents at the last moment, transporting Lwaxana onto the _Enterprise_ , and Wesley is made an acting Ensign until he can try and enter Starfleet Academy the next year. Calling this a forgettable episode might have been too kind, it was a totally shit episode of TNG.

The thing about Lwaxana Troi which sort of redeems her, is that she actually is a good person and a good ambassador for her people, with her heart in the right place. The majority of her over-the-top behavior is her playacting to cover up her own pain. One event that hurt her terribly was the loss of her eldest daughter, Kestra, in a drowning accident. Kestra was just 6 years old when she died, and that seemed to set off a chain of events with the people she loved dying around her. By this point, she had outlived her parents, siblings, husbands, and even a child. As someone who loves deeply, that scarred her over and over until she came up with her current public persona.

In the meantime, I had to figure out how much I wanted to involve myself in the upcoming events. I suspected this would be a recurring theme in my life in this dimension because of my foreknowledge. Yeah, I knew many things about the future, _but should I do anything about it_? Did I actually need to involve myself in every episode I recognized? Would my interference actually result in a better outcome? And would that outcome _actually_ _be better_ in the mid- to long-term?

This episode had turned out fine in canon, but maybe if I intervened, Wesley would have a better chance at succeeding and finding happiness with a career in Starfleet. On the other hand, his disastrous final year at the Academy and the flight accident which claimed a fellow cadet’s life, when they tried that banned flight maneuver, had resulted in him becoming dissatisfied with the path of his life, which eventually led to him learning from the Traveler and becoming some kind of uber-being who traveled reality with the power of his thoughts alone and could even step outside of time itself. Which was the better outcome?? _I had no fucking idea!_ Should I even worry about the canon outcome when my very presence was quite possibly throwing everything off? Or should I just do a cost/benefit analysis based entirely on how it affected me, how it benefitted me? Gah…

God knows how many times this same debate would need to play out in my head. Thank goodness my patron had put me in an AU Star Trek universe, which meant the timeline was a bit more fluid and not everything was happening like on a predetermined script or in exactly the same way.

_Fuck it_ , I owed Wesley a little something for mentally scarring him several times over. Let’s roll the dice and see where they end up. If the Traveler of this universe still wanted to teach Wesley to travel the universe and dimensions with his mind, then he’d figure out a way to make that happen.

Fortunately, shore leave was authorized, and Troi had invited me along to see a few beautiful sights on Betazed - how could I say no to visiting my first alien world with a native guide?

**XXXXX**

**Medara. Betazed.**

Betazed was a bit of a letdown on some level. While it was certainly an absolutely beautiful world, with obviously great care spent on preserving a balance between untouched nature and advanced cities, it was also not that much different from Earth. When I had thought of alien worlds, I had imagined planets with rings like Saturn, an extra sun, maybe a couple dozen moons, extremely saturated colors, even a floating island in the air or something… and Betazed had none of that. I knew it was my own fault for having unrealistic expectations, but still – Medara, the capital city, could have been any city from my time… just with some more weird plants and futuristic architecture. For a moment I had even thought I was being pranked, that this was actually Earth, just cleaned up, but who would take the time to do something that elaborate?

At least getting here had been interesting. It had been the first time I had been transported while I was conscious enough to see it. The transporter is a device capable of almost instantaneously moving an object from one location to another, like from a ship to a planet or vice versa. It does this by using matter-energy conversion to transform matter into energy, then beaming it to or from a chamber where it is reconverted back into its original pattern. That said, there was a theory (or fear) I had heard in my time which suggested that every transport using this device was actually creating a perfect copy of the person, while the original is destroyed in the energy conversion process. I’m not exactly sure what the philosophical implications are, especially since transporter accidents on the show have successfully created perfect copies of the same person, each equally valid as being that person. Supposedly this was a fear shared by the people of Earth in the 22nd century, when transporter technology was first invented, and had been disproven.

In any case, getting transported isn’t some elaborate process for the individual, even if the science behind it was obviously incredibly complex. I simply walked onto a platform with a couple of other people, we each picked a spot over a pad, and the transporter chief activates the console. Being converted into energy doesn’t hurt, just a slight tingling sensation, like when you walk across a carpet and get a static charge on your skin. One moment I was on the _Enterprise_ … the next, on an alien world.

I found myself in a very well-maintained park with the rest of the people on the pad. Riker and Deanna had beamed down with me and were setting off on one of the walking paths, letting me explore on my own for a while. Being in this place was bittersweet for the two since they had met here when they were younger and had fallen in love. Unfortunately, Riker had chosen his career over marriage and Deanna had had her heart broken. They were moving towards a particular spot, with some sort of rare plant they had put there years before. I was following them, making sure to keep myself calm and out of sight, but honestly, the way the two were acting, I could have danced around them naked and I’m not sure they would have even noticed. Lwaxana and Mr. Homn were waiting nearby, getting ready to spring their ambush – apparently determined to force Riker and Deanna to stop dancing around each other for even more years. Ironically, Lwaxana was actually stepping on the very moment that could lead to what she wanted. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion. I hid behind some trees and waited for this shit show of an episode to get started, still not 100% sure I was going to intervene yet.

“I think it's around here somewhere,” Riker said with a grin on his face.

“Maybe it died,” Deanna said. “It has been a few years.”

“Muktok live for hundreds of years.” Riker examined some nearby plants before finding what he was looking for. “Here it is.”

The muktok was a low growing plant with a fluffy purple flower that chimed when it was shook.

“It's lovely,” Deanna said with a sigh, sounding wistful. “I remember that sound, and all the good times we had.”

“I remember a certain junior officer meeting a very serious psychology student,” Riker said, with a devilish grin on his face. “The best part about being assigned to Betazed.”

They kissed, and were completely unaware of the fireworks about to go off, as Lwaxana and Mr. Homn walked towards them, with the valet carrying picnic baskets. The romantic moment was ruined as Lwaxana opened her mouth and spoke. “Oh, this is the perfect spot. Put the food down over there, Mister Homn. Isn't it a beautiful day for a picnic? They'll join us in a minute. No, no, no, no. Here, put the food over there. No, you can go back.”

Troi and Riker stepped away from each other, the moment over.

“Mother, how did you know about this place?” Deanna asked crossly.

“Your father used to bring me here.” Lwaxana answered. “Sit down.”

“And you even brought provisions,” Riker said sarcastically, a grin on his face. “Very thoughtful.”

“Here, Will, Deanna,” continued Lwaxana. “Try an oskoid. They're delicious. That sap running through the veins helps keep it warm.”

Riker tried one and said, “Very tasty. So, tell us, Lwaxana. The last time we met, you were looking for a husband. Did you have any luck?”

“Alas, no, but what happens to me isn't important,” Lwaxana said regretfully. “I'm much more concerned about other people getting on with their lives.”

Deanna let out an exasperated, “Mother.” I admired her restraint.

Lwaxana turned towards her valet, apparently ignoring her daughter’s irritated tone with a great deal of practice. “Mister Homn, I noticed some uttaberries back along the path. Pick some.”

Mr. Homn walked away without a word, moving at a slow pace like a giraffe ambling on the savannah. He must have had the patience of a saint to put up with his employer.

Lwaxana waited until he was out of earshot before continuing. “Well, Mister Homn and I could go back home if you two would like to be alone. It's such a romantic setting.”

Deanna let out another exasperated, “Mother, stop it.” If this was something that happened regularly when Deanna was trying to be alone with someone, I’m kind of surprised Deanna didn’t enter the 24th century version of witness protection, change her name, and disappear into anonymity.

“Darling, you have been so excitable lately,” Lwaxana said. “Have you ever thought of a leave of absence? I could talk to Jean-Luc.”

Riker, obviously recognizing the signs that Deanna was about to have a meltdown, tried to distract his ex, “Try the oskoid. Very different.”

This was when Tog finally showed up, beaming in beside the trio.

Riker let out a surprised, “What the?” before pushing Deanna behind him.

“For one whose beauty surpasses even these pericules,” Tog said, not reading the room at all. Just like in the original episode, Lwaxana tossed those flowers to the ground, flowers which were native and only grew on a specific Ferengi world, and would thus provide the _Enterprise_ a vital clue as to just who kidnapped them. This guy was truly an idiot.

“DaiMon Tog - I thought the Krayton left orbit hours ago?” Riker said, not sure what was happening.

“It did,” Tog replied. “But when I tried to get the image of Lwaxana Troi out of my mind, I could not succeed.”

“This is ludicrous.” Lwaxana screeched. “You mean you came all the way back to Betazed for me?”

Tog responded, “Why continue to search for perfection once you have found it?”

“I don't believe this,” muttered Deanna, and once again, neither did I.

Lwaxana looked like she was winding up and let out an explosion, “Look, Demon Tog, or whatever you call yourself, I am Lwaxana Troi, Daughter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed. And unless you want to create an interstellar incident, you had better beam back to your ship!”

Tog grinned and said, “Returning to my ship is exactly what I had in mind. Krayton, transport four---gah!”

It was at this moment that I sprinted behind Tog and placed him into a sleeper hold, squeezing him tightly around his neck, just hard enough to cut off blood flow and air circulation, but not to kill. My research on the physiologies of the alien attendees of the trade conference had shown a sleeper hold would work even on a Ferengi.

My left hand deftly removed his comm unit and threw it a few dozen feet away, to prevent any transporter locks centered around his comm unit, before making sure I was in position to control Tog’s movement as his body was going limp in my arms. It was tempting to simply break his neck, which would kill this Ferengi as surely as a human, but I managed to restrain myself. As soon as Tog had appeared, I had hidden in the nearby foliage, waiting for the man to commit himself to the kidnapping I’d seen in canon and thus give me an excuse to legally act. While Deanna had obviously felt my emotions as I got closer, she had not done anything to alert Tog to my presence beyond a quick glance in my direction. The loathsome man had finally lost consciousness and I lowered him down onto the grass to the sound of a subordinate trying to confirm transport from Tog’s comm unit. For better or worse, I had just made a major change to the timeline – I just hoped it had been worth it.

**XXXXX**

**Captain’s Ready Room. U.S.S.** _**Enterprise** _ **.**

Starfleet personnel had arrived soon after my intervention and placed both of us into custody. I wish I were surprised, but I really wasn’t. Tog and I were both sent to a local Starfleet base on the planet and were put into separate holding cells. Tog eventually woke up and started shouting for a guard, yelling for them to ‘Release him immediately!’ and ‘Did they know who he was?’, but was being ignored.

I just laid quietly on the bed, with my hands behind my head, thinking about what I had done, or in this case, what I had _not_ done. I was considering the consequences of my choice, both in getting involved in the first place, when I knew this situation would have worked itself out fine, and of not killing Tog. I had just humiliated a Ferengi starship captain, who not only had his own powerful starship, but who more than likely was from a very wealthy family, who could very well hold a grudge… I doubt this was going to be the end of it.

Picard had originally saved the day and had suffered little in terms of consequences, but he was in Starfleet, a captain of a galaxy-class starship, and was legendary in his own right. Retaliating against him was a much, much different proposition than retaliating against me at the moment. I was an Augment, and thus had a lot of physical power, but I did not have a powerful ship of my own, was not part of a powerful fleet, and I had no one that would make much of a fuss if I suddenly disappeared. Maybe I should have just not stuck my nose in it in the first place, or killed him and made it look like an accident. But to kill, much less in cold blood… I wasn’t there yet. I felt like I would have to make that choice sooner rather than later, but killing Tog wouldn’t have accomplished much more than make my potential charges worse. If the guy had brought a weapon with him, maybe I could have gotten away with it by suggesting it was in self-defense, but merely transporting people away? That wasn’t going to fly.

The only advantage I had at the moment was that I was essentially a nobody, with no fame, no accolades, no great accomplishments. Striking back at me granted little in the way of reputational benefits. In fact, it was all cost and no profit. I could only hope that would be enough to dissuade any Ferengis looking for revenge.

After about an hour passed, the guards came for me - I was to be sent back to the _Enterprise_. They moved me under guard until I reached the captain’s ready room. I hadn’t been put into restraints, which I very much appreciated, and was surprised that Picard had remained alone with me in the room. I had been sitting here for about 10 minutes, listening to Picard rant. He was now starting to repeat himself, and my patience was running thin.

“You’ve created an interstellar diplomatic crisis!” Captain Picard said in a raised tone, pacing back and forth – which for him, was practically being hysterical. I was tempted to grab him by the shoulders, slap him, and shout “Get a hold of yourself, man!” like in the scene from the movie ‘Airplane!’, but managed to stop myself. What I couldn’t stop was the little smile that bloomed on my face for a moment at the silly thought, which I quickly smothered. Unfortunately, it wasn’t in time, as Picard had noticed.

“Do you think this is amusing, Gothic?” Picard asked, as he sat down.

“Captain, with all due respect,” I said, even though I was obviously lying, “what did you expect me to do? I had no weapons to stop him with… I guess I could have thrown a rock or something, but that might have caused more damage than just waking up with a headache. Under the circumstances, I think my approach was actually quite gentle.”

“The problem is not with your _methods_ ,” he spat out incredulously– which for him, was like a snarl. “The problem is that you assaulted a Ferengi captain while he claims he was performing diplomatic duties. This will have grave consequence with any future diplomatic endeavors with the Ferengi and possibly others, once it becomes known.”

“Captain,” I said. “I understand what you’re saying, but I really think you should stop for a moment and calm down so that you can think rationally.”

He actually dropped his jaw in shock and was about to start up again, so I just talked over what he was about to say – a little rude, but I wasn’t appreciating being called out onto the carpet for saving the day.

“DaiMon Tog was not acting as a diplomat for the Ferengi when his ship returned to Betazed,” I said. “He wasn’t acting in the guise of a diplomat when he transported onto the planet’s surface without permission. He certainly wasn’t acting like one when he tried to forcibly abduct Commander Riker, Counselor Troi, and Ambassador Lwaxana Troi via his ship’s transporter. A woman he had publicly expressed desires to possess at the closing reception of the trade conference, specifically for her telepathic abilities and her great beauty, a desire which was forcefully and loudly rejected by Ambassador Troi multiple times over, including on the day I incapacitated him.”

I paused to let that sink in. Picard wasn’t a stupid man – I’m sure he would have eventually figured this out on his own. He was probably just frustrated that this had happened with someone from his ship involved. I might not be crew, but I guess he felt like while I was living on the ship, thus he was responsible for me, or that his granting me so much freedom, even though I was a dangerous augment in so many’s minds, had caused this. A bit of prejudice was likely unconsciously at work, but let’s give the guy the benefit of the doubt.

“Sir,” I began. “Tog attempted to kidnap three Federation citizens. I rendered him unconscious during the commission of that crime, mid-command, after he activated his comm device and signaled to his ship, saying ‘Returning to my ship is exactly what I had in mind. Krayton, transport four---gah!’. The gah is when I started strangling him,” I joked with a wink, which the captain did not appreciate if the stink eye he was sending me was any indication.

“No matter how the Ferengi might try to spin it, his ship should have already left and he should not have been on the planet. He is a criminal, and that’s how the Federation should look at this event – a crime was stopped mid-act. There was a diplomatic incident, but one committed by the grievous act of DaiMon Tog who attempted to kidnap three Federation citizens; a Federation Ambassador and two Starfleet officers, no less. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Ferengi are forced to apologize for this and even offer up some concessions to smooth things over with Betazed and the Federation. This will likely be seen as ham-handed and indefensible, even in their eyes.”

Picard had begun to think again, and I could practically see his blood pressure lowering. “Perhaps you are correct, Gothic. The _Enterprise_ will remain here for the next several days until a decision is reached regarding DaiMon Tog and his actions. In the meantime, please return to your quarters and remain there until this situation is resolved, one way or another.”

“Alright, captain,” I responded calmly. I was grateful he hadn’t put me in the brig while all this was getting figured out, but I was still a bit annoyed that I was being confined to quarters. I had saved the day and might yet face consequences for it, yet I was being treated like a criminal. Lwaxana, Deanna, and Riker should have told Picard all this.

“Dismissed,” he replied, seemingly forgetting that I wasn’t part of his crew or in Starfleet, and certainly not in his chain of command. I got up, bowed my head slightly, and walked out. Hopefully this would all be settled quickly.

**XXXXX**

**Guest Quarters. U.S.S.** _**Enterprise** _ **.**

I soon returned to my quarters, my two old Vulcan guards back behind me, this time joined by another pair. Guess my choking out a dude had frightened some folks. ‘All our fears are confirmed! The Augment is violent!’ I left them outside my quarters and went to check if I still had access to my replicator and computer– thankfully, I still did.

I grabbed a bite to eat and relaxed a little. I wasn’t quite ready for bed yet, and after a long day like today, I felt like an equally long and relaxing shower was in order. I was almost done when I was notified that someone was at the door. I quickly tied a towel tightly around my waist and went to see who it was. Who else stood there but Lwaxana-freakin-Troi. I noticed that my guards had disappeared from their sentry positions and wondered if that was just a coincidence.

“Oh my,” she purred slowly, her eyes roaming my bare chest, ogling the muscles my Augment physiology had granted me and let me keep with little actual dedicated weight lifting involved. “Did I catch you at a bad time, Mr. Gothic, or is it the right time??”

You had to give the woman credit, her over the top flirting was a refreshing change of pace.

“Not at all, Ambassador Troi. I would offer for you to come in but…” I managed to say, before Lwaxana pushed by me into the living area, both hands somehow pushing and shamelessly fondling my well-defined pecs. “…or you can come in.”

“I am here to formally thank you, Gothic, for helping me in my time of need,” she formally said, with the air of royalty making a proclamation. “I, Lwaxana Troi, daughter of the Fifth House, holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed, acknowledge my debt to you, Gothic, for the great service you provided in protection of my daughter and myself, the last our great house.”

She then looked at me, obviously expecting me to say something.

“Uh…” I said, fumbling for a response, before the speed of my thoughts caught up with my mouth and I decided to take a page from years of DxD gameplay, fantasy books, and Tolkien.

“I, Gothic, traveler of time and dimensions, acknowledge your debt to me and accept it in the spirit it was given.”

Did that sound as lame as I thought it did?? _Traveler of time and dimensions_?! What the fuck was I thinking!

When I finally stopped castigating myself for how stupid I probably sounded, I noticed that Lwaxana was looking a touch amused, but also like a cat who had just gotten their first taste of cream and saw a fresh bowl of it right in front of her. Well…ok now. That’s unexpected.

“You know, Gothic, you are incredibly handsome,” she purred, beginning to stalk towards me.

In spite of myself, I was getting caught in those dark eyes of hers. Lwaxana was a very attractive and sexy woman, far better looking than the woman who had played her on TV, with a nicely rounded figure that would normally make my mouth water, but her personality from the show had always been off-putting to me. But…she had never been this sexy. That had to be taken into account. And you can find a way to accept a whole lot of unpleasantness if a woman was this sexy and showed interest in you.

Lwaxana strutted up to me, now standing close enough to smell me, her nostrils flaring like she had caught the scent of wounded prey. A hand reached out to trace my pectorals, playfully circling my left nipple. She was taking several deep breaths by this point.

“Maybe I can thank my savior in a more… _intimate_ manner,” she said, reaching up to bring my head down, closer to hers.

I thought about rejecting her, but honestly, something about her was checking all the boxes when it came to my ridiculously enhanced libido. When I accepted this new life as the gift it truly was, I had told myself that I would live this life to the fullest, without regret. Turning down freely offered pussy from a sexy woman was not in line with that commitment, so I said fuck it, and kissed her like my life depended on it.

**XXXXX**

**Guest Quarters. U.S.S.** _**Enterprise** _ **.**

Lwaxana only stayed for about three hours in total, but what a three hours they had been. The woman was practically insatiable and had done her best to test the stamina of even an Augment like me once she realized that my flesh was much stronger than normal and could rise to the occasion as many times as I wanted. An episode from TNG suggested a possible explanation for her libido. She might have already entered the beginning stages of ‘The Phase’, a phase of life that all Betazoid and half-Betazoid women entered in mid-life when the woman became fully sexual, her sex drive quadrupling…or more. If that were the case, then I think I had acquitted myself rather well and was glad I had accepted her advances.

I’ll admit, some of my hesitation had been due to her portrayal on the TV show. Majel Barrett-Roddenberry was a fine actress, but it would be charitable to call her anything but handsome. In contrast, this version of Lwaxana Troi was firmly in hardcore MILF territory… I just wished her personality was equally as attractive. Still, in the few quiet moments between love making sessions, Lwaxana was actually quite fun, candid, uninhibited, warm, and so full of life you couldn’t help but like her. It was so different from her normal persona that it was like she had been on a stage before, performing, but now she could finally let her hair down and just be herself.

Underneath the gaudy and elaborate dresses she often wore, Lwaxana looked like a fertility goddess – with well rounded, but carefully maintained curves and valleys that were just begging to be explored. She was a woman who knew what she liked, filled with a sensuality and eroticism that could leave you breathless. Lwaxana must have been regularly practicing her Kegel exercises because she was tight and wet enough for me to doubt that she had ever had children.

It seemed that our time had come to an end, as Lwaxana got up to leave. The sonic shower wasn’t exactly designed for two, but we made it work, with her pressed against the wall and me entering her from behind until we both climaxed in a soothing final crescendo. She eventually begged off as she needed to return to Betazed and got dressed. We had one last kiss and she left, vowing to keep in touch – I wasn’t quite sure if I should have taken that as a threat… or a promise.

As soon as the door closed and Hurricane Lwaxana left, I began to rationally think about what had just happened, and felt a bit of panic. My other dalliances had been more or less kept low-key, but this one would be hard for the ship’s gossip network to miss. I think I could kiss any attempt at seducing Deanna goodbye… at least for now. God, I needed a drink.

I got something to eat, took another shower, this time for real, and went to sleep. The bed smelled of her natural scent and perfume, even after I had changed the sheets.

‘ _Damn, what a woman_ ,’ was my last thought before I finally fell asleep.

**XXXXX**

**Guest Quarters. U.S.S.** _**Enterprise** _ **.**

Three days had passed since I had wrecked Tog’s plans. I had spent most of that time studying, and was now about the level of a sophomore in high school. While I wasn’t completely cut off from the outside world, being stuck in the same room while not being allowed to walk around the ship or visit the holodeck wasn’t fun. Fortunately, people were still allowed to visit me, and my handful of friends that I had made onboard made sure I wouldn’t go stir crazy.

Guinan, that angel, visited twice, even bringing another bottle of Romulan ale from her dwindling private collection. I drank about a shot glass at a time in order to extend how long it lasted. When the last aqua blue drop hit my tongue, I think I actually shed a tear. Spending time with Guinan was interesting too, of course, just in a different way - we mostly talked about some adventures she and I had had in our other lives. Under different circumstances, I might have given her a tour of my bedroom, but knowing the guards were just outside seemed off-putting to her. You’d think a woman as old as her wouldn’t care anymore, go figure.

Beverly visited me as well, but it was mostly for emotional support – her baby had finally left the nest to go to Starfleet Academy and she was feeling rather lonely. I wasn’t really sure what to do or say beyond being supportive and making “hmm” sounds as she shared her feelings, her head on my shoulder. My being there for her was apparently enough, which I was grateful for. I’ll admit, I was tempted to give _her_ a tour of the bedroom as well, but once again, the guards outside made that untenable – since I now had six who rotated shifts. I started mentally calling them ‘Petty and the Cockblockers’ in my head even though I knew it wasn’t really their fault. No, they were just doing their jobs, unfortunately.

Data was one of those who came by, and we continued our lessons on how to be more like a squishy meat-bag. While I did enjoy the conversations, they were pretty challenging – describing an emotion to someone who did not have the current ability to experience any emotions can be pretty difficult, like describing color to someone who had never possessed sight. I got a lot out of these conversations too, especially when Data helped me better understand some difficult or abstract concept from my studies. The man was also, inadvertently, extremely helpful in overcoming some design challenges I was facing in my mental designs for advanced weapons and armor. He was also a wonderful sounding board for philosophical questions I had on the Federation’s many shortcomings, at least in my opinion. His lack of emotions actually made him far more objective than an organic who had been raised in this culture.

The most notable visitors during my ‘confinement’ were Deanna Troi and Riker. Both of them had thanked me for preventing their kidnapping, but Troi felt a bit more stand-offish and uncomfortable in our interactions, at least when compared to our earlier talks. I had some suspicions about that – I guess even in the future it was awkward to learn someone had banged their mother to within an inch of her life. I wouldn’t even have been surprised if Lwaxana had shared a blow-by-blow breakdown of our fucking and told her daughter to give me a try while she had the chance. That would have been a very Lwaxana thing to do.

Riker, on the other hand, obviously having heard about Lwaxana and I, acted like he was almost in awe of me, like I had put my head (the one on top of my neck) in a wild lion’s mouth and somehow not gotten it bit off. Still, they were both grateful that I had prevented their kidnapping and asked me to call them Deanna and Will, respectively. I even got an invite to the poker game he hosted every week or so – to which I was a bit surprised as only the command crew and honored guests were usually invited. In the end, I wouldn’t strictly call us friends, but we were more than acquaintances. Saving someone from being abducted could have that effect.

Eventually, Picard called me back to his ready room and told me that my predictions were pretty much on point - the Ferengi had been embarrassed by Tog’s actions, feared what the Federation might do in response, and had offered significant concessions to the Federation in the way of apology. Just as I had suspected, Tog's family were very wealthy and powerful, and they really wanted to make this go away, as they had lost a lot of influence due to Tog’s actions. As for Tog himself, he would be stripped of his command and returned to the Ferengi Alliance, where he would no doubt have to face the Ferengi Commerce Authority (the enforcers of the Ferengi’s trade agreements) and their agents - charmingly known as Liquidators.

With this latest incident seemingly resolved, the _Enterprise_ was once again heading for Earth, and I was crossing my fingers that we wouldn’t get involved in yet another potential disaster. In the meantime, my movement about the ship was no longer restricted, and Petty and the Cockblockers were nowhere in sight.

With my involuntary seclusion over, I decided it was time to hit up Ten Forward and see what I had missed.

**XXXXX**

**Ten Forward. U.S.S.** _**Enterprise** _ **.**

I entered Ten Forward to smiles and nods of acknowledgement from various folks – a far different greeting from the one I had received the first time I had entered this place. Saving the First Officer and Counselor Troi had garnered me some increased goodwill, it seems. The _Enterprise_ was now less than a week away from reaching the birthplace of humanity and I was having mixed feeling about returning to its embrace. I sat down at a free table and ordered my usual from a passing waiter. I had just gotten comfortable when I was joined by four Klingons, who, without asking for permission, just sat down at my table. That was fine, I was curious to see where this might go.

I recognized three of them from my first alien encounter, the very same guys I had beaten up when I was still disoriented from centuries of cryosleep. The last one was Worf – oh joy. I was surprised they actually allowed him to be around them since he was officially dishonored in the eyes of the Klingon Empire. I doubt it was because they found him to be good company, so maybe it was a lack of options and I looked like a good diversion?

At first, I had thought they were here to make trouble, but apparently the three bore no hard feelings, were actually impressed by me, and simply wanted to sit with someone they respected. The trio had left the ship after our last encounter, but had come back onboard again when the trade conference had begun. They were now hitching a ride to Earth for some other diplomatic thing and were looking for a bit of recreation – meaning it was time for them to get drunk. Worf was escorting them around, mostly there to make sure they didn’t spontaneously break into a fight.

I debated getting up and leaving, but the Klingons seemed like a nice change of pace after being effectively grounded to my room, so I decided to stick around and see where this went. They pulled out several bottles of bloodwine they had brought onboard with them and poured me a generous glass, urging me to give it a taste. Bloodwine is hard to describe. Obviously, it’s the color of blood, but while it went down like wine, it hit like pure moonshine. That stuff has a kick like a mule, and really got the blood boiling – probably because it was about twice as potent as whiskey. All-in-all, it wasn’t that bad! I don’t know if I would want to take the time (or cost) to get used to it, but at least getting my hands on a bottle in Federation space wasn’t as hard as getting Romulan Ale, which was illegal because of the trade embargo.

While we sat drinking, the first thing I noticed about these Klingons was that they were kind of like children – hairy, bony, extremely aggressive teenagers that were part of a death worshipping cult. They were seemingly obsessed with constantly one-upping each other. Even drinking was a competition, with the victory going to the man who could remain functional even after drinking enough to kill a human with alcohol poisoning. I had known guys like this in my home dimension – they were great for a laugh, but when the going got tough, they usually got going, leaving you to take the fall. Maybe that was different for Klingons. As for Worf, he was trying to join the fun with the others of his race, but was somehow not quite able to make it believable. His laughs and roars felt like they were just a half-second too late behind the others, almost like he was taking his cues from his fellow Klingons, like he was unsure of how a Klingon was supposed to act so he was pantomiming their reactions to avoid embarassment… which I guess was true, in a way.

Worf’s backstory was actually one of the reasons I gave him more slack than I would have most people. Worf’s father, Mogh, had been an honorable Klingon, Head of one of the Great Houses in the Empire; while his chief political opponent, Ja'rod of the House of Duras, was a shifty, slimy sort who was less concerned with honor, and more concerned with gaining power, no matter what it took. Seeking a way to increase his influence, Ja'rod moved to a colony on Khitomer – the same planet where the Klingons and Federation had signed a peace treaty over 50 years before.

When Worf was 5 years old, Mogh followed with his entire House, including Worf, Worf’s mother, and his nanny - just leaving a recently born little brother, Kurn, behind, under the care of another House. Unfortunately, that was the worst thing Mogh could have done, as Ja'rod was working with the Romulans, who wanted Khitomer, and they had Ja'rod sabotage the defensive network so that they could attack. Most of the colony was killed, leaving very few survivors, amongst which were Worf and his nanny. Since the nanny was in no shape to care for Worf or capable of protecting Worf from his House’s many enemies, since the House of Mogh was effectively destroyed, she allowed him to be adopted by a family in the Federation, far from the House’s enemies in the Empire. Ja'rod returned to the Empire and began quickly gathering power, his old enemy no longer frustrating his ambitions and his crimes hidden from the light of day, at least for now.

Worf grew up more than a bit ‘high-spirited’, to put it in polite terms, unable to completely control his anger and strength around the weaker and less physically robust human children he grew up around. Tragically, when he was 13, he accidentally killed another child during a soccer match when they collided midair, his reinforced Klingon head breaking the human boy’s neck. While it truly was a tragic accident on every level, Worf’s grief and anger at his actions made him take his personal self-control to a whole new level, even creating a goal for himself to become the perfect Klingon. The problem with that was that he saw his people as some kind of noble warriors with rich traditions, not the drunken bullies that they really were in the modern day. Even when he visited Qo'noS as a teenager and was shunned for being too human-like, he lied to himself that it was just a test of some sort. Even when he grew up and joined Starfleet, the first Klingon to ever join, he kept himself apart – seemingly never fitting in anywhere.

This all came to a head just a few months ago, as a now adult Kurn found his brother and told him that their father was being accused of being a traitor during the Khitomer Massacre, and that Duras (Ja'rod now dead and his son taking over), was trying to smear the House of Mogh’s name. Worf went to Qo’noS, the Klingon homeworld, and tried to stop Duras’s attack on his family’s name with the help of Picard, and it eventually came out that the Klingon High Council already knew that Mogh was innocent, but was using him as a convenient scapegoat to cover up the crimes of the House of Duras, who by this time had wormed its way into controlling nearly half the Empire. If the sins of Ja’rod were revealed, it would almost certainly bring about a Klingon civil war. For the good of the Empire, Mogh would be branded a traitor. As the man was long dead, his only known son, Worf, part of Starfleet and not truly a part of Klingon life, and Kurn’s relation to Worf unknown and still pretending to be the son of another house, it seemed like the perfect plan to sweep it all under the rug. The High Council never expected Worf to actually fight the charges or to find conclusive evidence proving Duras was the real traitor. To protect his brother, Worf accepted a discommendation, effectively ruining his family’s ‘honor’ in the eyes of all Klingons. What made this shit sandwich even worse was that it was all for nothing in the end – the civil war would happen anyway, the Duras family working with the Romulans once more, and Worf would still wind up facing off against Duras in the future.

I was trying to keep all this in mind, because otherwise, I think I would have already taken one of these lovely bottles of bloodwine and hit him over the head with it until the bottle broke or he did. I had just finished arm wrestling each of the trio, and winning, when Worf decided he had to do so as well to prove just how Klingon he was. While the others had been surprisingly good sports about my victories and actually looked amused that a human had beat them, Worf looked like I had just insulted his mother, and his sullen behavior was acting like some sort of joy-vacuum. Apparently, each defeat, even though they weren’t actually his, was somehow a wound to his precious Klingon honor, and he just had to show the world how much better he (and ostensibly the entire Klingon race) was than me. Maybe, in his mind, by beating me, when these other Klingon warriors had failed, it would reaffirm that he was the perfect example of Klingon. The fact that the other patrons in the lounge had been quietly cheering me on, his fellow Starfleet officers, seemingly transfixed at the sight of a human who dared (or was stupid enough) to try and match his puny human strength against much stronger Klingon warriors, and had somehow beat them…well, that certainly wasn’t helping matters. The usually taciturn security chief looked pretty pissed off at the moment and was annoying the shit out of me as a result.

Maybe it was the bloodwine affecting me, but I had finally had enough, and moved to sit across from Worf, placing my fist within his. When Worf called out "DAH!" the challenge had begun. Immediately, I felt his arm tighten up as he put all his considerable alien strength into defeating me. For a moment, it looked as if I would be defeated, but then Worf began to lose his advantage as my genetically engineered superhuman-strength easily countered his alien muscles. Ever-so-gradually, and with pretend great effort on my part, I began to win. It took a while as I dragged it out, letting him win for a bit and then surging back with some very over-the-top expressions on my face and _serious_ grunting, but the Klingon found his bare knuckles slamming with a crack into the table when I got bored with the whole thing.

Rather than roar in good humored outrage at his defeat, as the other Klingons had done, Worf simply sat silently, coldly glaring at me through his sweat-dampened hair. His anger seemed to have faded, leaving a bitter resentment. Did he realize I was playing with him and could have won at any time? I kind of hoped he did.

“You have great strength, yet you do not have the heart of a warrior!” he growled.

While my time in the army hadn’t been a guns-blazing affair as a combat engineer, I had still put my life on the line with my brothers and sisters in uniform. He was treading close to crossing a line that I could not forgive, no matter how tragic a backstory he had. I also wasn’t sure what beating him in arm wrestling had to do with anything other than arm wrestling.

“Humans know nothing of combat,” Worf continued. “In your time guns and bombs fought your wars. There is no honor in overcoming an enemy from a faraway place of safety where you cannot see the defeat in their eyes as they look upon you in death… and when you were forced to fight with no weapons, you attack from ambush, from behind – like a coward would.”

He was probably referring to my recent adventure on Betazed, where I had indeed attacked from behind, choking Tog out. But he was one to talk – Klingons were infamous for using their cloaking devices and getting off the first shot before their enemy even knew they were there. The Klingons also ‘conquered’ numerous races whose technology was vastly inferior to theirs, even pre-warp cultures; many such conquered races made up the Empire now. Where was the ‘honor’ in conquering a people who hadn’t even reached space yet?

The truth, as I had found in my own deployments in Iraq and later Afghanistan, is that there were no real rules in war. Sure, there were rules of engagement and violating those could often result in court martial or imprisonment, but the truth was, when your survival was on the line, everyone does whatever they can to stay alive, rarely considering the cost of how those victories are achieved, the cost in both innocent lives and the cost to their souls. It’s only after the blood is spilled and innocent lives are lost, that people suddenly remember high-minded ideals like human rights and treaties. Unfortunately, as human history had shown over and over and over again, there was no such as a ‘war to end all wars.’ _There was always another war_.

Humanity had a long, bloody history of warfare, not much different than the Klingons. Indeed, our two species both knew a lot about combat and war. Some might even say too much. It might even be why Klingons and humans seemed to constantly be at odds – deep down, we were more alike than either side cared to admit. And now that humanity was part of a larger community of species, those future wars now had a much larger pool of potential enemies to choose from.

“Right, and you’ve never used a phaser on an enemy from faraway before either, right?” I said, taking another gulp of bloodwine. “As for attacking from ambush, I was aiming to disarm and de-escalate the situation on Betazed, not kill. My actions accomplished that goal, even if not done to your exacting standards. It was _I_ who protected two of your fellow officers, not you. Where were you that day?”

I felt myself lowering my voice, my tone going cold and my neck tensing up - a warning sign to anyone who knew me well that my temper was beginning to show. I cracked my neck to either side to loosen it up without even noticing. Worf had slightly leaned forward, my quieter voice almost egging him on – and positioning his head at almost at the perfect spot for me to hit him.

“Human fighting techniques are crude and flawed,” Worf stated. “For Klingons there are many levels of martial combat mastery. When a true Klingon warrior fights, his motion is like a song sung of a battle past, with each action flowing one into the next. It is a song that will be sung for generations to come, but one such as yourself could never find the discipline to master the warrior's way."

“Or maybe you’re just trying to find something beautiful in something that’s actually terrible. War is a bloody, terrifying mess where real people get hurt or die, sometimes for no rhyme or reason at all, no matter how skilled. It is not some kind of epic adventure, or as cloaked in honor and glory as you seem to think it is. War is filled with horrors. The people who think that battle and war are honorable, beautiful things are often deluding themselves, or have never fought in a war themselves. I don’t have to be up close covered in someone’s guts to see that.”

“Humans do not have the stomach for war, like Klingons do. We are bred for it, while you merely play pretend. Every aspect of our lives is fashioned to make us the greatest of warriors. You…”

I began to tune him out. This conversation had seriously lost track of where it had begun, and admittedly, some of that was my fault, old demons from my past had come out. While I could admit my role in this conversation going off the rails, Worf had really lost control of himself and was now ranting at me like I was the epitome of everything that had gone wrong in his life. The bloodwine and the defeat of multiple Klingons at my hands had obviously pushed him over the edge.

“Then there is your hair,” Wolf commented. “You keep it too short!”

That comment snapped me back to reality, and just plain confused me… was he trying to get me to adhere to Klingon customs that warriors adhered to? Were we now engaging in petty insults? Was that even an insult for a Klingon?

“Short hair doesn't get in your eyes,” I pointed out slowly, not sure where this was going.

He had a counter for that.

“I wear a warrior's braid to prevent that, and for ease of movement," he returned, as if that was some sort of unassailable explanation. I'm not sure ease of movement would matter much if I could grab hold of that braid, pull his head back hard and then slice his now accessible and vulnerable throat wide open. On second thought, that might actually be why Klingons wore their hair long – it was probably some macho thing about making things harder for themselves so that they could claim that victory would be sweeter. I'd just assumed it was fashion choice.

“And the rest of your clothes are inappropriate,” Worf informed me. “You are strong, yet you do not wear armor or the trappings of a warrior so that everyone you meet knows who and what you are.”

At this point I'd had quite enough, and my temper finally erupted.

“Where the hell do you get off trying to lecture me on what is or isn’t a warrior,” I said while standing up, and trying not to lose my balance. I'd drunk a hell of a lot of blood wine in my little experiment to see if I could still get drunk as an Augment. “You Klingons can call yourself mighty and honorable warriors all you want, but really you're nothing more than old fashioned barbarians with fancy tech. You talk about honor and facing your foes in open battle, and then you attack people from your cloaked and hidden ships! You sing songs of glory and conquest, even over races that hadn’t even reached space yet! What honor is there in a victory over someone who didn't even know you were there?! What honor is there in conquering a race that has no possibility of winning!”

One of the Klingons jumped up, ready to say something stupid, when I looked him in the eye and let some of the inner darkness that I kept buried within me show in my eyes.

“Sit. Down.” I said coldly, my eyes not leaving his. I don’t know exactly what he saw in that gaze, but whatever it was, even drunk, he wanted no part of it and sat down quickly. I made sure to look at each of the others, wondering if they had something to say, but they avoided my eyes. I turned back to Worf.

“True honor is earned through integrity and acts of true courage, not senseless bloodshed and conquest over weaker foes,” I said to the Klingons. “Your race changes the definition of honor from moment-to-moment to suit yourselves, to justify your desire for violence and conquest, or to preserve your Empire from the many dishonorable acts of the powerful and influential. You, of all people, should know all about that, Worf, son of Mogh.”

I’d had enough of this place and the idiot barbarians, so I left. Surprisingly, none of Klingons had tried to stab me in the back as I left Ten Forward. I slowly walked to my quarters, only slightly staggering as my body worked to cleanse itself of the alcohol’s effects. Once inside, I was able to get into bed before passing out into an uneasy sleep, filled with the memories of trying to fix bullet ridden vehicles and trying to get the spilled blood of my wounded or dead friends off my clothes.

**XXXXX**

**Guest Quarters. U.S.S.** _**Enterprise.** _

I woke up wanting to piss like a racehorse, but luckily only with a slight headache. No longer experiencing hangovers, in exchange for no longer being able to get drunk, even after a night of heavy drinking, well, it was probably a good tradeoff. After relieving myself, I took a shower and left the bathroom feeling like a new man. A large, but quick breakfast and coffee later, and I went back to studying.

While I was absorbing my latest lesson, I found myself yet again considering the rapid rate at which I was going through material that most people would find extremely challenging. Now, I certainly wasn’t a complete blockhead before being brought into this dimension, but my progress seemed too quick, even with my genetic enhancements. Amazingly, I had gone through almost 15 years’ worth of 24th century education in less than three weeks, with little trouble.

One potential reason for my success may have been a mental experiment I had conducted that had borne fruit. Various anime had hypothesized that being able to truly multi-task, to hold separate thought processes in parallel, could result in multiplicative results. Doing this not only allowed me to maintain two separate thought processes, which meant double the work in half the time (to oversimplify it), but more effective synthesis of disparate ideas and data points. Knowledge did not exist in a vacuum, scientific principles existed together, interwove, combined, built upon each other, to make all manner of things possible.

It had taken a great deal of work to get my enhanced brain working in this new manner (and several brushes with a coma or death), but once I did, it was like I had been wearing welding goggles all my life and now I was seeing the world for how it truly was for the very first time. I had experienced that once before, when I first woke up in sickbay as an Augment. That had been terrifying and confusing. This time, it had been exhilarating! It was a high greater than any drug.

The Federation was very likely going to secure me a job as a librarian, just as I had requested, though that was likely because they’d essentially be able to dictate where I ended up on Earth. It’d likely be a place they could easily monitor and deal with me if necessary. Even if they gave me a job, I was strongly considering getting my equivalent of a 24th century GED. That would hopefully clean up some of the paperwork surrounding my status in the Federation and assure others I wasn’t a 20th century uneducated barbarian. I was also hoping that this would grant me some legitimacy or credibility should I ever come up with a patent or device that I could try and sell sometime in the future and also make it easier to obtain various licenses and permits for other things.

I spent the whole day following my usual routine, except for one thing – tonight I would be going to Riker’s quarters for poker, instead of Ten Forward. It was going to be interesting facing off against an experienced card player, an android, an empath, and a Klingon with a legendary poker face who may not be all that happy with me at the moment.

**XXXXX**

**Riker’s Quarters. U.S.S.** _**Enterprise.** _

I showed up to the game a couple of minutes early, wanting a little time to mingle with the rest of the players before we started playing. Before coming here, I had decided to play this mostly straight, without using any of my enhanced senses to give me an advantage. I said hello to Riker, Beverly, Deanna, La Forge, and gave a curt nod to Worf, which he ignored. I wouldn’t have minded if he would have been replaced by Data, but unfortunately, Data was currently on the evening duty shift on the bridge, so he couldn’t attend.

After a few minutes of small talk and getting refreshments, Riker invited us all to sit at his card table. Everyone sat down, the cards were dealt, and the game began.

Playing poker with strangers is an experience fraught with tension. As the new guy, I was dealing with a group that already suspected or knew each other’s ‘tells’ and playing styles, and had changed their own to be more opaque. Yes, the stakes were small, but no one likes to lose – most certainly not me. I played the first couple of games cautiously, feeling everyone out, locking reactions and body language in my memory, but eventually I learned the rhythms of this group and was able to start winning more than I lost. It was tempting at times to lean more heavily on my enhancements, to listen to their heartbeats to detect if they were bluffing, for example, but as this was a friendly game, it felt like cheating. That said, if I were ever to find myself in a more professional game in the future, with real stakes, I’m not sure I would be able to hold myself back. There were many humanoid races in the alpha quadrant with physiological advantages over humanity, they could use their natural gifts and so would I.

We made some small talk throughout the entire game, with only Worf remaining silent – giving us a great impression of an animatronic statue that often glared at me. I found his sulking to be ridiculous and just ignored him. The rest of the evening went fine, ending only because the next day was a work day. I left right after Beverly did, eventually catching up to my favorite redhead so that I could put a hand around her waist and pull her close to my side. She put her head on my shoulder, and gave a smile to my questioning raised eyebrow. Suffice it to say, I spent the night in her quarters… and this time there were _no_ interruptions. I had had a horrible vision of Wesley calling over subspace during the act, her comm screen lighting up to show Wesley’s horrified face, but thankfully that hadn’t happened.

She begged me to let her sleep by the end, so I let her drift off to sleep, playing the role of big spoon in my cuddling. From the smile I saw on her face, even while sleeping, she was pretty happy with how this night had ended.

The next morning, I wondered to myself how Beverly would handle having her sex drive reawakened and having no available outlet, but figured that wasn’t really any of my business. We had made no commitments to each other, but I’ll admit I would miss her once I left the ship. She was a lovely woman, very sexy, and very fun to be with. After a morning quickie, we separated with a kiss and went on our ways – her to work in sickbay and me to my daily routine.

**XXXXX**

**Guest Quarters. U.S.S.** _**Enterprise.** _

Several days later, the _Enterprise_ was finally at the edge of the Sol system. I made my goodbyes quietly, not wanting a big fuss as I had the feeling that our paths would inevitably cross again. I was leaving the ship with just a small bag filled with toiletries, some clothes I had replicated, and that was about it, as everything else came with the quarters or was ship property. I took a last look around my quarters and walked out without a backwards glance, ready to begin my new life on Earth.

**XXXXX**

**San Francisco, Earth**

I re-energized in a small park. The park looked like it had been sculpted around a large open transporter platform that allowed people to transport to and fro without winding up in the middle of a busy street. It was actually quite pretty the way they’d integrated a piece of advanced technology into an otherwise beautiful and well-manicured park. I knew where I had to go, but getting there was going to be interesting as things had changed significantly in the 300 years since I had last walked an alternate version of these city blocks.

Fortunately for me, I had memorized a detailed map of the current city layout while on the _Enterprise,_ so I knew approximately where I was. I made a mental note to buy a PADD and comm device so that I wouldn’t feel so disconnected in the future. Everything was so different, even the streets, but I could sightsee later, as my priority was getting to my new apartment and settling in.

In preparation for my arrival on Earth the Federation had finally given me new identity paperwork and other identification documents, ones recognized the quadrant over. The question of whether I was truly a citizen of the Federation was still a bit uncertain, even now, but that actually worked for me. In the future it might be to my benefit to argue that any laws restricting the rights of a genetically engineered person in the Federation did not actually apply to me as a dimensional and time traveler. The Federation had dealt with both people from the past who had awoken from centuries of cryosleep, as well as time travelers before, so there was legal precedent there already for their integration, but I was the very first dimensional traveler from an alternate Earth they’d had to deal with, one who just so happened to be an Augment.

Yeah…so there were a lot of complicating factors to work through. It could be years before a decision was made there and likely only if I pushed for it, I committed a serious crime, or the Federation itself wanted to restrict me somehow and force its laws upon me for whatever reason.

Thankfully, the Federation and Earth had graciously set me up and treated me like an honored guest, if not an outright citizen. My saving three such important people on Betazed from abduction, including the famous Ambadassor Troi, likely helped in that regard. My situation was not exactly unique, at least not completely, as people from the past had found themselves needing to make new lives for themselves on 24th century Earth, so there were already some procedures in place that smoothed the process. They had even given me a spacious apartment in a futuristic high-rise apartment building in the middle of San Francisco, with one ridiculously nice view of the bay. I could literally see flying cars out my window!!

Just like I had expected, they also set me up with a job offer, a position as a librarian at the University of San Francisco, working with their surviving 20th and 21st century historical texts. I was pleasantly surprised at the choice. The University of San Francisco had existed even in my dimension and had been a Jesuit university founded in 1855.

I accepted the job. The choice of University, in the same city as Starfleet Academy? Yeah…that was no accident. The Federation and Starfleet wanted the Augment where they could easily find him, with tons of personnel around to deal with me if necessary. I was just fine with that. Just giving me the job was a favor in my mind, who cares if it was meant as a method of control and limiting the potential damage I could cause. Working in an advanced university library came with access to all manner of resources, resources that would be instrumental in my continued growth and education. My plan was to take full advantage of those resources and see what opportunities came my way; I wasn’t exactly committing myself to a life-long occupation with this decision.

It was time to begin this next great adventure.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Adventures of Augment Gothic**

**Chapter 5**

**San Francisco. Earth**

Damn…was the only thought I had in my mind as I looked up at the two buildings in front of me, one of which would be my new home while on Earth. When I had been told I was being assigned an apartment in a high-rise building I had few expectations in mind. What might a 24th century apartment building look like? Would it be towering monolith of sparkling crystal and advanced metals allowing it to pierce the clouds and reach 500 stories into the sky? Did I merit such a thing? Or would I be getting some surviving post-war concrete shit hole to live in because I was an Augment? I had no idea.

Standing a few hundred yards from the front door of the two buildings, I wasn’t too far off and damn if it wasn’t impressive. The two high-rise buildings were actually connected by what looked like two thick bridges, possibly to allow travel between the two buildings. The building on the ‘right’ was probably about 100 stories tall, with the one on the left being probably 75 or so. Five hundred story tall buildings had been a bit of an overshot.

The two buildings were similar to the skyscrapers of home in the sense they were very tall tower-like buildings, but that’s where the similarities ended. There was a visible spine which cut the two buildings in half, a band of thick greenery inside, but the apartments were not flush to the side of the building. No, they jutted out at different points, making the whole building look more organic in shape as there were less harsh and continuous lines. Some apartments had large balconies and others did not, but there were many, many large ledges jutting off the side of the building filled with small trees, shrubs, and flowers. Both buildings were covered in colorful living plants giving it a cornucopia of color. Obviously great effort had been spent on making these buildings less monoliths of advanced artificial materials and more a space filled with nature and life.

The lower bridge connecting the two buildings was maybe 10-15 stories off the ground and appeared to have a very nice-looking pool in the middle of it. Did that pool have a glass bottom? Wow, that’s cool! Even from this distance I could see many people sunbathing around the pool and swimming. I engaged my far sight and saw many attractive women, some human, some obviously not. It appears clothing was optional too. Who knew?

The upper bridge was set at the very top of the left building and connected to probably the 75th floor of the right building, at the three-quarter mark. I wasn’t entirely sure what the purpose of this bridge was till a freaking flying car flew down from the sky, circled the building, and appeared to land in a pre-designated parking spot on the upper bridge, directly over the top of the left building. That made sense, I suppose, if a lot of flying cars parked there, they’d want to be parked directly over the actual structure itself which could better support the weight of the vehicles and keep them from dangerous crosswinds at that elevation. The middle of the upper bridge appeared to have an arboretum or something similar.

All in all, this was a hell of a nice place and I wondered how I rated such a thing. (See “Pier 2: Apartment of the Future 2018” on YouTube)

Walking up the tiled walkway to the front of the building I passed several folks who greeted me with a smile and a nod, and some assessing and interested gazes from several women.

The lobby itself was beautiful too and obviously great thought had been spent to give it an organic feel like the rest of the building. Wood panels, probably from many different worlds were on the floor and ceilings and walls, art installations, lush plants, even fucking colorful fish swimming in little rivers in the floor. You could even hear the pleasant sound of a waterfall.

The seating areas had some ultra-high end looking furniture, but what did that mean in an age of replication?

There was one recognizable feature that transcended the era and that was the large sweeping marble desk that held the equivalent of a hotel concierge, but something you’d only see in some really swanky apartment buildings from my time. In this case it was a rather beautiful blue-skinned Andorian woman who greeted me, being kind enough to wait for my gawking to end.

“Welcome to the Bay Harbor Arms. Can I help you in any way, sir,” she asked me.

I plastered a polite smile on my face, the assessing look of interest I undoubtedly had wasn’t feigned. This was the first Andorian woman I’d seen outside of episodes of Star Trek Enterprise. They were a handsome race. At first, I thought the blue skin and moving antennae were going to turn me off, but it really worked for me. In fact, it was exotic as hell. Her smile and frank appraisal of me indicated she also had nothing against humans. Welcome to the 24th century, Gothic. I had already banged my first alien in Guinan and then Lwaxana, but they looked so human it almost felt like it didn’t count. Blue skin, though, and antennae, fuck yeah that counted.

“I certainly hope you can,” I said with a smile. “I’m told an apartment was arranged for me here, my name is Gothic.”

“Of course, let me check,” she said, before typing on a computer hidden by the top of the desk she was sitting at. “Yes, everything is ready for your arrival. Starfleet sent all your information, including the biometric data to access the buildings turbolift and your apartment. It’s fully furnished already. You are in building 1, apartment 5010, bay side.”

It looks like Starfleet took care of everything. I had been worried I was in the wrong place.

“5010? I’m assuming that means I’m on the 50th floor?” I asked.

“That’s right, sir. We are in building 1 currently, so if you go to the turbolift behind me, just place your hand on the biometric panel to call the lift. Once inside you can access any floor, though your apartment is on the 50th.”

Well, that sounded easy enough.

“Thank you so much. I’ll go up right now,” I said.

“If you need _anything_ at all, I’m Tarav,” the beautiful Andorian named Tarav offered. Extra service was implied with a tone like that, unless I was completely misreading the situation.

“Thank you for your kind offer, I might just take you up on that,” I said with my best smile.

Proceeding to the turbolift bank behind I placed my hand on the designated spot and it flashed green, which I assumed still meant approved or accepted. Moments later the doors split apart to reveal what looked like a glass box filled with sunlight and bird song and the sound of wind rustling through trees. I could even detect the scent of the bay, but I knew I was inside the building. The glass must be some kind of smart glass that displayed images of the bay outside.

Stepping in, I turned around to watch the doors close, completing the image of the bay. Unfortunately, there was no visible panel. That’s when the lift spoke to me; I don’t know why I was surprised anymore.

“Welcome to the Bay Harbor Arms, Gothic. Would you like to proceed to your apartment?” a pleasant female voice called out. Obviously, the voice of Majel Barrett for the computer was only seemingly required on Starfleet ships.

“Yes, please take me to my floor,” I said aloud and only feeling slightly silly. I had gotten used to the turbolifts onboard the _Enterprise_ , which obviously were more utilitarian in design and usage than this fancy thing. With my statement, only my augment senses indicated we had started moving.

“The landscape image of the Bay is the default selection for this turbolift when you step inside, you can select any programmed view merely by calling aloud. This system has over 1 million options.”

Damn. That’s fancy. “How about the Forge on Vulcan,” I responded.

With that command the view changed to that of a vast and beautiful desert. In fact, I think it was an image of the Plain of Blood, which had been briefly seen in an episode of Star Trek: Enterprise. It was quite beautiful. Even the scents in the lift subtly changed. This was one fancy fucking elevator.

I only had a few moments to turn around and admire the 360-degree view of the Forge before the doors opened and a long-carpeted hallway could be seen. The hallway was broken up by small tables filled with fresh flowers in what looked like crystal vases. Wooden doors with biometric panels to the right of the doorways were present and staggered.

Walking up to apartment 5010, I looked at the panel that would be used to gain entry to my new apartment. On the one hand, I was psyched. This was one hell of an apartment they were giving me and I hadn’t even set foot inside it yet. On the other, this panel was a stark reminder that Starfleet had scanned the shit out of me and had a lot of information to put in their file on me. Did the Federation have this information on all their citizens? The medical report Beverly had shared with me had been detailed as hell, God only knows what else was not shared with me. My 20th and 21st century sensibilities were aghast at just how much information the government now had about me.

I probably wasn’t being fair. Even in my time the government knew a hell of a lot about its citizens. You’d be hard pressed in some parts of the 1st world to not spend half your life in view of and being recorded by a CC camera after all. Living ‘off the grid’ was never something that appealed to me, but it was doable in my time. I had a feeling that on 24th century Earth it’d be downright impossible. You’d probably need to travel to a brand-new colony to get even close to ‘off grid’.

Pressing my hand flat on the panel which sat somewhere below shoulder height, the panel flashed green with a pleasant tone and this wood looking door split in the middle to admit me inside.

Again, I was impressed. This apartment was a 1-bedroom variant, but it was very spacious. The room I walked into was long and rectangular with your eyes immediately being drawn to the floor to ceiling glass windows which ran from one end of the room to the other with nothing visibly holding it up, which meant the view was unimpeded. It was almost like there was nothing there to stop you from just stepping forward and into the air itself. I somehow doubted these windows were actually made of glass, probably transparent aluminum. The material seemed to be used all over the place.

And what a view it was. The view of the San Francisco Bay was beautiful. I could even see the Golden Gate Bridge. The view was enhanced by the numerous flying cars in the air. This was some futuristic shit.

On the far left of the room was a kitchen area with a waterfall edge marble island with all the modern equivalents to cook if you wanted. How much people actually used their kitchens was a question. In fact, in an age of replicators I suspected even having one was meant to be a sign of luxury.

In a prominent and easy to access location was the apartment’s in-wall replicator, which was quite similar in form to the one I had access to in my quarters onboard the _Enterprise._ I was still scared of using a replicator I didn’t own, especially on Earth, but I’d have to play with it to see what it could be used for.

Looking to the right of the island was a small 4-person rectangular table that could probably be used for either a workspace desk or a dinner table. This was oriented parallel to the island.

To the right of the dinner table was a richly stained coffee table with a large couch and a nearby recliner, all facing the window wall and the bay view. There was no TV in the room, but I had a suspicion about that from my experience in the lift.

“Computer, please turn on the Federation News Network,” I said aloud. Immediately a large portion of the window wall displayed a very attractive female reporter giving a news report. Guess some things don’t change. I had a feeling the size of the image was dependent on where in the room the computer detected I was standing. It was pretty big.

_“-eration’s negotiation team, led by Starfleet Admiral Alynna Nechayev, reports progress has stalled in their talks with the Cardassian Union towards a possible armistice to end ongoing hostilities with the Federation. In other galactic news, the Klingon Empire--“_

“Computer, end display,” I said aloud. I really had no idea what the ‘right’ way to phrase certain commands to the computer was, but thankfully it was smart enough to recognize what I intended.

The Federation News Network broadcast turned off. It was nice to see that I had a decent handle on how things worked here, even when guessing.

“Computer, access my personal database. Can you confirm the _Enterprise_ transferred all my stored data, including replicator patterns?” I asked.

“ _Confirmed, would you like to see the contents of that transfer?_ ” it answered.

“Yes.”

A long list of file folders showed up on the smart glass wall. My memory confirmed it was all there, and the memory size matched what it was supposed to. That was a relief. Prior to the auction of all my stuff I’d copied and digitized everything that had been in my apartment, including the contents of my computer. Everything physical, from the furniture to my clothes to the books on my bookshelf, etc., had also been painstakingly scanned and a replicator pattern created for them. While the originals had all been sold to build my nest egg, I would be able to reproduce anything I wanted in the future with access to an appropriate replicator and my personal database.

“Thank you, computer. End display.”

On the far right of the room was a doorway that led to the only bedroom in the apartment. There was a king-sized bed with a thick mattress and a very nice-looking comforter. There were even a bunch of extra pillows. On either side of the bed were small tables with crystal lamps in an art deco style. Interesting choice. The bed itself was on the back wall and faced the amazing views of the bay with another small chair and table, possibly for reading. My apartment must be one of those that jutted out from the main building because two glass walls met in a corner for even better views, but this meant I didn’t have a balcony. There was a nice work desk placed directly against one wall as well with a computer terminal manual interface.

On the far right of the room was another doorway, probably a bathroom. Walking in, the bathroom was as nice as the rest of the place. A marble countertop with a fancy vessel sink with a large glass walled water shower and bathtub. The lack of a sonic shower made sense, I guess. The water conservation necessities onboard a starship obviously weren’t relevant when on a planet with plenty of water.

All in all, this was an amazing show of welcome by Earth and Starfleet and it was making me feel really paranoid. I’m an Augment and yet they gave me a place like this? Had I acquitted myself that well on the _Enterprise_? Had saving Ambassador Troi really raised my cachet? Were they trying to set me at ease, to show the prejudices of the past weren’t relevant in the present? I could only wonder how many surveillance devices were in this place.

I decided those were all problems and concerns for another day, so I shucked off all my clothes and got under the covers. It was like I was lying on a cloud.

“Computer, lock the doors, privacy mode. Can you tint these windows also? I’m going to sleep,” I said.

“Understood, Gothic, windows have been changed to blackout settings. Have a pleasant rest,” it said in return.

My eyes looked around the room in surprise at that kind of answer, the windows slowly turning black and opaque, but decided, again, it wasn’t worth looking into. My body clock was on ship time and I didn’t care that it was only late afternoon in San Francisco. And I didn’t give a fig that I was supposed to have a reduced need for sleep as an Augment. I was ready for bed. Sometimes exhaustion was more mental than physical and a good night’s sleep was more for the soul than it was for the body.

**XXXXX**

**Gothic’s Swanky Apartment. Bay Harbor Arms Apartments. Earth.**

Have you seen the first Iron Man movie, specifically the scene where Tony Stark’s one-night stand with that beautiful reporter wakes up in his Malibu mansion alone, naked, with the covers perfectly arranged to keep the movie PG?? That was how I was awakened. In fact, it was eerie how similar it all was, down to the words the computer used. Was this my patron fucking with me?

_“Good morning, Gothic. It’s 7am. The weather in San Francisco is 62 degrees Fahrenheit with scattered clouds. You are scheduled to begin work at 11am at the University of San Francisco library. Would you like me to replicate you a breakfast after your shower?”_ my apartment’s computer asked as the smart windows of my apartment gradually became less opaque and showed the spectacular view of the Bay in the morning sunlight, additional information about weather conditions for the week, events taking place around the city, and any Federation news alerts being displayed on the wall for my review.

Still feeling a little groggy and my mouth slightly open at this super cool way of waking that was reminiscent of one of my favorite movies, it took me several silent moments to respond.

‘Um, yes, yes! Feel free to replicate me a full English breakfast, triple portion size. Have you received my medical authorization for a higher caloric content in all my replicated meals?’

_‘Yes, our systems have received the authorization from Dr. Beverly Crusher, Chief Medical Officer, U.S.S._ Enterprise _. All requested foods and beverages will be replicated accordingly.’_

Well, that was convenient. Stepping off my bed I proceeded into the bathroom. It appeared the mirror in my bathroom was ‘smart’ as well since it displayed additional information like the wall of my apartment. Again, very cool, but pretty invasive.

Discarding my boxers, I opened the shower door and found no familiar handles to turn on.

“Um, start shower.” I called aloud. Immediately the shower started up.

Sticking my hand in the water I found that it was instantly hot already. The little things like this just kept popping up and making everything seem so damn cool!

“Raise water temperature 7 degrees,” I ordered. Immediately I felt the difference. I always did like a scorching hot shower in the morning. I had a feeling the computer had noted my change and would use the increased temperature immediately tomorrow, without being told to.

Ten rather enjoyable minutes later I was finished with my luxurious shower. Having finished the computer asked me if I would like to use traditional towels or having the water vibrated right off my body sonically to go down the drain. Being the man out of time, I chose the cooler option, in my opinion. This was reminiscent of my bathroom in my quarters onboard the _Enterprise._

Walking nude through my apartment I grabbed some clothes for the day, in this case light brown pants, pastel button up collared shirt with a pullover sweater/jacket with brown leather shoes to match. I was the very definition of smart casual, and looked like a male runway model while wearing it. I had selected and replicated these clothes on the _Enterprise_ in preparation for my first day. Counselor Troi had given me a smile and approval when I had asked her, probably somewhat nervously, if this was appropriate clothing for work on Earth.

In the kitchen, my full English breakfast was already waiting for me in the replicator, still steaming hot. It looked amazing. The eggs, bacon, sausages, grilled tomato, mushrooms, toast and marmalade with a cup of tea looked perfect, but what did I expect when it was made by a machine rather than human hands.

Taking a small sip of the tea, I found it was an earl grey blend. That surprised me. I hadn’t selected that variant of tea, but I had ordered earl grey numerous times on the _Enterprise_ , had my beverage selection preferences been added to my identity profile and followed me all the way to Earth? Again, a bit creepy and invasive.

As I took my food over to my new kitchen table, choosing a seat that let me take in the great view, I began to think about my day as I ate. Working in the 24th century was an interesting concept, as I had learned onboard the _Enterprise_. In the broadest possible sense, it was the same as in my time. You got a job, you performed tasks associated with that job, your employer paid you.

Yes, they were even paying me in this time, sort of. Federation Credits weren't truly money, you couldn't spend them in the strictly traditional sense, but you could save them and then exchange them for what you wanted, so it was pretty close. They were kind of like those tickets that arcades sometimes gave out that could be exchanged for cheap plastic junk, but rather than get something that would break five minutes after you got it, credits were used to book passage on ships to other planets, to access and spend a specified amount of time on the holodeck, even 'buy' goods or technology. Those things were gotten with credits because there was more demand for them than could be supplied to everyone freely and weren’t considered true necessities anyway. I suppose it was like rationing in a sense and an incentive for people to work and to contribute in a post-scarcity society. Everyone was allowed a certain amount for free and anything beyond that required credits. You want to travel to Risa? Then you needed to work and "buy" your passage with credits, though every person in the Federation receives a minimum set amount as a base each month.

Could you get personal loans in the Federation?? I had no idea. Maybe starting a business that was valuable to the Federation or your planet of residence meant government subsidies.

I had just replicated my breakfast, but no credits had been deducted from my account. I checked. Food was considered a necessity and the Federation provided for all its citizens.

As I hadn’t lived in this system, I was still figuring out all its practical ins-and-outs. Research could only take you so far. Full immersion in a society was often a great deal better for figuring things out than just cultural research.

Many things, including food, clothing, nearly all forms of entertainment, medical care, and even basic housing, was supplied by the Federation free of charge to all of its citizens. If you didn't want to leave Earth it was possible to live out your entire life without ever earning a single extra credit through work. But that would be extremely dull, at least for someone from my time.

I wanted to earn credits, because even if they weren't money, it just felt right to be ‘paid’ for my work, especially since you could exchange them for intrinsically valuable things in their own right. A replicator gotten for credits here on Earth would still be a valuable item anywhere, in other words. At the moment it wasn't about the amount or what I could get with it, although visiting a colony world would be interesting. I feared that the Federation mindset was already at least partially rubbing off on me. That was something I needed to guard against. My outsider perspective was far too valuable to lose.

Thankfully, I wasn't worried about starting my new job. Thanks to Data's personal tutelage and my enhanced brain, I had learnt at a vastly increased rate, far faster than was otherwise normal or even possible for a baseline human. In a month and a half, I'd learned everything a Federation citizen on Earth would have been taught. I was sure I could spend the rest of my life here on Earth, which could be a couple of centuries thanks to my enhanced body and advanced Federation medical care, now without feeling like a caveman.

The _Enterprise_ was currently docked at Utopia Planitia on Mars, so the crew was taking some much-needed shore leave. That meant that I had several lunch dates set up with my new friends, Deanna and Data. Not that Data ate food, so I assumed he was just being polite. We got along surprisingly well and had collaborated very productively on a few design projects already, at least those things that hadn’t been objectionable, like weapons and armor. Luckily, both of them maintained apartments in San Francisco for when they stayed on Earth.

As for me, I was sitting in my apartment looking out of the big floor-to-ceiling windows that gave me an impressive view of the bay and the many air cars flying through the city. It was mine only because it was a gift, possibly in exchange for historical information? Or an enticement to assimilate better in this time? I suspected that Picard might have also pulled some strings as a thank you for getting Ambassador Troi and Counselor Troi back to the _Enterprise_ in one piece.

The view was exceptional, breathtaking even, from this vantage point. I suspected that I would probably spend hours in the future just watching the shuttlecraft and aircars zooming above buildings both new and centuries old. Now wasn’t the time for that, however, as I needed to get to work.

Putting my now clean dishes back in the replicator, I commanded it to recycle it all. It was pretty cool to watch how the matter was disassembled. I was about to walk out the door, when I stopped and turned back to the replicator, an idle bit of curiosity striking me.

"Computer, replicate a 10-ounce bar of gold, .9999 fine, 24 carrots," I commanded, suddenly very curious to see what would happen. Essentially to see in real life what I had learned from the show.

_“Replication of the desired item will require 10 credits to be deducted from your account. Do you still wish to proceed?’_ it asked.

“Yes,” I answered.

Moments later a shiny bar of gold that could fit in the palm of my hand was sitting in the slot. Picking it up, it was just as I expected, and quite heavy for such a small thing. Just like the shows had said, gold possessed little actual value as it could simply be replicated in the modern age. Also interesting was the confirmation that a non-necessity item replicated cost credits to produce. Food had cost nothing. Presumably, clothing, as another necessity also wouldn’t cost anything to replicate. If I had asked for a violin to be replicated, I had a suspicion that it would have cost even more credits to produce than a bar of gold, simply because the violin was a far more complex object made of many different materials.

What a thing. Well, I guess I had a cool paperweight now, setting it gently on my kitchen island before walking out the door on my way to work.

**XXXXX**

**University of San Francisco Library. Earth.**

I walked into the large building of the University of San Francisco, San Fran Uni, as it was called for short, with a little trepidation. While the idea of going to work was somewhat comforting in its sheer familiarity, I was somewhat worried that it would be a repeat of my old life, and that my job would be incredibly dull.

That feeling faded somewhat when I watched a blue skinned alien walk past me of a species I couldn’t immediately identify. Alien students on Earth, now that was not going to bore me any time soon.

I found the library easily enough thanks to an interactive map on my PADD. Not that I really needed the help as I had already memorized a map of the city and the library was a large building that took up nearly one whole corner of the campus. So soon enough I was walking through the main doors and I found that within seconds I was almost completely at ease. This was familiar.

The library was large, much larger than I had imagined it, however that didn't bother me as I focused on what comforted me. It was the books. There were shelves upon shelves of _real_ books with true paper pages and traditional bindings. Paperbacks, hardbacks, textbooks, fiction and all of them were remarkably intact given that every one of them was likely from centuries past and had survived some horrific times in this planet's history. Given the comprehensive computer databases of this time, I imagined keeping real books like this was more for aesthetics and historical appreciation than true functional use, the books conveying the university’s long history. On further thought, though, these were unlikely to be originals. They were likely all replicated copies, made from the surviving originals, as I didn’t see any signs indicating gloves or other protective equipment was required to even touch them.

"It's wonderful, isn't it?" someone said behind me.

I turned around to see a beautiful woman. She was wearing a fairly old-fashioned looking skirt that went to her knees and her shiny blonde hair was done up in a tight bun with two sticks holding it in place. She clearly was a fan of the retro look. I also noted that she was very curvy in all the right places, given the tightness of her rather old-fashioned dress, but she was, simply put, _extremely_ attractive. She looked very familiar as well for some reason.

"It really is, reminds me of home actually, and that’s been very hard to come by lately. Hello, I'm Gothic," I greeted with a smile, hopefully charmingly, the now familiar reaction of humanoid women to me (especially when in close proximity) showing up in the slight dilation of her pupils, a slight flush of her cheeks, and nostrils flaring ever so slightly.

Her eyes seemed to light up upon hearing my name.

"The 'Gothic' from the alternate universe?" she asked. "The Khan-era Augment?"

That was me.

"Well, yes, somewhat,” I answered, though I felt it necessary to offer up some correction if this woman was going to be working with me. As she didn’t look young enough to be a student, that seemed likely. “I was born in that era on Earth, in the late 20th century, but calling me a Khan-era Augment is a bit of misnomer on several levels. Khan didn’t exist in my dimension, in fact genetic engineering advanced enough to create Augments at all hadn’t really existed yet. I was even changed as an adult, so, quite different from Khan and his contemporaries, but I understand why people have called me that. Just describing me as an Augment might be more accurate given the negative implications of any connection to Khan while living on Earth of all places," I corrected gently, my smile in place to assure her she hadn’t offended me.

Apparently, my infamy, or notoriety, had preceded me. The science types on the _Enterprise_ had been excited by me as well, insofar as my DNA might one day be the future of humanity after many millennia of evolution, especially since I showed no signs of obvious problems. They didn’t exactly have the chance to meet any others like me. I strongly suspected Starfleet and the Federation was doing its best to hush up my unique origins and only sharing information with people who actually needed to know, for whatever reason.

"My apologies, given what happened on Earth during the Eugenics Wars I can understand wanting to make that distinction. I'm Annika Hansen," she introduced, extending her hand for me to shake.

Now, that name certainly rang a bell, and before long I knew who this woman was. She was freaking Seven of Nine! Only not. She was no Borg, and never had been, and the lack of metal parts on her face and skintight bodysuit had prevented me from recognizing her right away.

In this universe, not having ever been assimilated by the Borg, she was a librarian of all things. Which, upon thinking about it more, made sense. If there were no Borg in this galaxy anymore, she never would have been assimilated by them and the entire course of her life wouldn’t have been disrupted. Therefore, she would presumably be living a _normal_ life somewhere within the Federation. Perhaps this was the true course of her life had the Borg not assimilated her.

Then I remembered where else I'd heard that name before, Annika Hansen was the name of the head librarian I was to be working for. She was my new boss. Wow, the universe was really fucking with me lately. Quite a coincidence… Or was it? Being the playthings of Gods meant anything was possible and coincidence often wasn’t. The fact that I hadn’t immediately recognized her name was another sign shenanigans were at work.

"I was expecting you a little later than this," she said.

This was because I'd given myself more than enough time to get here in case I got lost, but since I hadn't, I'd arrived sooner than planned or expected. My apartment had also woken me up hours earlier than necessary. And wasn’t that strange to think about.

"Should I come back later?" I asked.

Hopefully not, because I really wanted to spend time with her, if only to check out that sweet ass and those rockin' tits.

"Of course not," Annika said quickly. "If you would like to step into my office, I'll explain what you'll be doing here.”

Before long I'd be doing her. Somehow, I just knew it.

**XXXXX**

**Library. University of San Francisco. Earth.**

On my second day at work, the first having been little more than a tour and some paperwork, my boss took me to a large pile of books and a desk.

The tour itself had been very interesting. Just like my research had indicated, a university library on Earth had access to information and databases from all across the quadrant with a dedicated subspace transceiver and priority access to the Galactic Information Network (GIN). Even better were the fifty dedicated holosuites in the library alone, 40 for student use and 10 dedicated specifically for faculty and staff use. Of course, many academic departments and buildings in the university had their own holosuites for various simulations/testing/training, including the various student dorms meant more for entertainment, but these were the ones in the library meant for anyone’s use. If the student holosuites were not in use, or booked ahead of time, even the 40 holosuites meant for them could be used by faculty and staff. During the prime hours of the day the student holosuites were in near constant use, but college students were the same everywhere as early in the morning hours and late at night many holosuites were available, which was great for me.

The University itself had information sharing agreements with Starfleet Academy too, also in San Francisco, so that meant I had access to recordings of classes and materials, engineering training courses, on everything from starship operations to warp core maintenance, tactical training simulations, and licensing tests that could be gotten via holographic testing. For an ambitious Augment intent on learning everything he could about this time, it was a treasure trove of opportunity.

"This is your workspace," she informed me, "and I have prepared a little test for you as you can see.”

At work she was in charge, but when out socially, like when I'd gone out for drinks with the other library staff just last night, she was a lot more relaxed and easier to get along with. I could understand why she was so formal at work, though, she was rather young to be the head librarian of a major university, so she had to act extremely professional at all times or people wouldn't take her seriously. That was a problem that transcended the century it seems.

"I would like you to catalog these," she said waving a hand at the pile of books. "Before lunch time.”

If she expected me to groan or be shocked, she was sorely disappointed. I was no stranger to the Dewey decimal system that was used to organize these centuries’ old books.

As I’d found out, this aspect of my job as a librarian was only a small part of my duties, thank God. In many ways I was more akin to a guest lecturer who worked in the library. I had already been approached by various faculty and graduate students (TAs and those writing their dissertations) who wanted to schedule times where I could either talk to their classes about 20th and 21st century Earth culture or sit down for one-on-one interviews that could be included in their research. I was actually looking forward to it. Even with the differences between my dimension and this one, I’m sure I had a lot to offer them.

**XXXXX**

Less than two hours later I walked up to her door and knocked on the door jam. Annika looked up in surprise upon seeing me.

"Problem?" she asked.

There was none.

"Nope, all done," I said.

Annika smiled at me, a little condescendingly, but she followed me out of the office so that she could see what I had done. All the books were now on the shelves and in the right place.

"How?" she managed to ask.

It was simple to explain.

"Back before I ended up in a pod, centuries in the future and in another universe, in my youth I spent some time working in a library," I answered. "This was back when they still used the Dewey decimal system to organize physical books, which I'm guessing most people aren’t familiar with since they use computers for everything these days.”

Annika was now shaking her head.

"So many books were lost during the eugenics wars," she said sadly. "Book burnings," she explained. “The University secreted away much of its collection that survived the wars during that period, but no one escaped truly unscathed.”

That was terrible to hear.

"In my universe there was no such thing as the Eugenics War, so you guys must be missing a lot of stories that I got the chance to read," I realized. "That's a shame.”

Annika smiled at me.

"I totally agree," she said with a small smile. "Maybe you could tell me more about your time. Say, over lunch?"

That sounded like a good time to me.

**XXXXX**

**Gothic’s Swanky Apartment. Bay Harbor Arms Apartments. Earth.**

We'd had lunch together and after taking her out to dinner as well Annika had pretty much invited herself over to my apartment after I mentioned the fact that when I had been dimensionally displaced that pretty much the entirety of my old apartment on Earth had come with me, including all of the books on my bookshelf, some of which I knew hadn’t been written in this world. She had expressed great interest in seeing my collection and my new apartment.

While it was certainly believable that she’d be very interested in seeing the books from my world, I was almost certain that wanting to see the stuff in person, right after our semi-romantic dinner, was just a pretext. I could have replicated a copy of a few books and brought them to work, after all. I couldn't be sure as I really had no idea how people dated in this time. Most of the women I’d slept with on the _Enterprise_ hadn’t exactly followed the typical formula before we fell into bed. With Beverly, for example, we’d fucked well before we started doing the typical get to know you dinners and romantic walks and such. With Guinan, she’d threatened me first. And Keiko and Lwaxana were pure hook ups.

Still, she appeared to be giving me all the classic signs of sexual interest, such as laughing at all my jokes, finding any opportunity to touch me, playing with her hair and leaning forward to emphasize her large and well-formed breasts, so unless human sexual customs had seriously changed in the last few centuries, I figured there was a very good chance I was going to be seeing her naked sometime soon, assuming I played my cards right. I hadn’t been a troll before being changed, but being a ridiculously good looking and fit Augment certainly seemed to make things easier when it came to the opposite sex…and that was ignoring whatever this unconscious reaction humanoid women seemed to have when in my proximity.

Opening the door, I gestured her inside my apartment.

“Wow, what a great apartment! And what a view!” Annika gushed, taking a look around the place but her eyes inevitably going to the floor to ceiling windows and the view offered by virtue of being 50 stories up.

The view really was amazing. At this time of night, you could see the lights of the city and the moon reflected over the water. The Bay was a thousand times cleaner in this time then it had been in my time, with virtually no pollutants. The Golden Gate Bridge looked spectacular too. The two rectangular towers were lit up showcasing that famous reddish orange color. You could even see the hover cars flying here and there like fireflies in the night.

“I know, the first time I saw it I was in awe. The Federation really did me a favor, though I didn’t get a balcony,” I said with a wink to indicate that I was kidding. I really was impressed with how they’d set me up on Earth.

“Can I get you a drink?” I asked.

The coy smile she sent me, while clearly communicating interest and a willingness to possibly engage in sexual congress, also suggested that an old-fashioned girl like her might need some liquid courage, or at least a good excuse for any impulsive decision making.

“I’d love one, please surprise me,” she answered, continuing to smile.

“Coming right up, my lady,” I joked.

Walking over to the replicator I ‘placed my order.’

“Computer, interface with my personal database’s replicator pattern files. Replicate two amaretto sours with two maraschino cherries and a single lemon slice a piece, large, chilled, real alcohol, on a serving tray. Oh, also replicate a hard copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J.K. Rowling. And, yes, deduct the credits if required,” I ordered, providing the computer with as much specificity as I could to avoid endless questions. Thankfully, it worked.

The familiar whine of replication confirmed that the restrictions on replicating real alcoholic drinks was more about rules and regulations onboard a Starfleet ship rather than something that everyone in the Federation was automatically restricted by. I’d even seen one or two suggestions on the shows that indicated even onboard a Starfleet ship it was possible to override the alcohol restrictions.

Turning around, I took the serving tray over to the couch, which faced the large window, and set them down on the coffee table. I handed the drink to Annika who thanked me and took a sip of the colorful beverage. The way her face lit up told me she liked the drink, but was unfamiliar with it.

“What is this? It’s really good!” she said.

“These are amaretto sours, with maraschino cherries and a slice of lemon. Some people enjoy squeezing the lemon into the drink to alter the drink slightly. It’s a popular mixed drink from my dimension, one that I enjoyed ordering at weddings, even though it wasn’t considered very ‘manly,’” I answered, with a small laugh. “I would bet you’ve never heard of amaretto before, right?”

“No, I’ve never heard of amaretto before. What is it? Is it an off-planet drink?” she asked, continuing to take a few sips of her drink.

Well, that wasn’t surprising. Even if references to it had been present in surviving books, if the liquor itself didn’t exist anymore here than it was unlikely she’d have ever heard of it.

“No, invented right here on Earth. Amaretto is an Italian liquor primarily made from either apricot pits or almonds or both, sometimes with additional spices or flavors. It was invented around 1850 in my dimension, but wasn’t imported to the United States till the 1960s where it then grew in popularity as an after dinner or dessert drink,” I explained, actually a bit knowledgeable about its origins. “The primary divergence from my dimension’s history and yours begins in the 1950s as best as I can tell. This liquor might have been invented here in this dimension too, but it likely didn’t survive the wars. Luckily, I had a half full bottle of DiSaronno in my apartment’s liquor cabinet and it was perfectly preserved. Before I left the _Enterprise_ I had scans taken of everything to store the replicator patterns, including my amaretto.”

"I love old world stuff! In this case it’s a taste from your home and maybe mine too, one I didn’t even know existed. Thank you for sharing it with me," Annika said sincerely, a note of appreciation in her voice. "My parents were the space explorers, but I've always been more attracted to the past.”

Her clothes had told me that much already.

“I have another gift for you. It’s a book from my personal collection back home, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, written by J.K. Rowling in old Earth year 1995. I checked, only the first book was ever written here and it’s quite different from my version. In my home dimension and time, it was a series of seven children’s books and was something I loved in my youth. It was a cultural phenomenon and cultural touchstone for the world, really. Seven books, eight movies, video games, theme park rides, Broadway play, yet here only one book was made. I wanted to share it with you. I’ll hold the next 6 books hostage for future dates,” I said with a smile in my voice.

“I don’t think I need to be bribed for future dates, Gothic,” she said, a soft smile on her face.

“Well, can’t hurt to--" I started to say, only to be cut off by her lips hungrily crashing down on mine.

The next thing I knew there was some passionate kissing going on, clothes being torn off, and a quick trip to my bedroom to break that bed in.

Life was good.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to or part of Star Trek. This fan fiction was written purely for fun.

**Author’s Note:**

Hello my friends, welcome back to another installment of this story! After reading fanfiction for years, it’s now my turn to write the ubiquitous, sorry for the delay author’s note. Real life has been a real bitch in this time of Covid. My wife just started a new job in another city three hours away, I’m looking for a new one, all the while we are trying to sell our old house and buy a new one while living with my parents in our old hometown. So, yeah, it’s been hard to find time and motivation to write, even though this story is never far from my mind. The very first scene in this chapter was one I was on and off envisioning in my head for literally weeks.

**The Adventures of Augment Gothic**

**“Tell me and I forget, teach me and I may remember, involve me and I learn.”**

– Benjamin Franklin

**“Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.”**

― Mahatma Gandhi

**Chapter 6**

**Bay Harbor Arms Apartments. San Francisco. Earth**

**3 Months Since Arriving on Earth**

This view, dude. My eyes kept returning to it, no matter where I was in this swanky apartment.

The windows were floor to ceiling, but you could barely recognize the fact that there was something between you and the fifty-story fall to the ground. The clarity of the ‘glass’ was insane and it must have some anti-glare coating on it because even with the sun shining directly on it in the morning you could still barely tell that it was there.

Of course, the sun was not an issue at the moment, being near midnight, but the moonlight reflecting off the water of the San Francisco Bay was beautiful in its own right. The flying cars even flying around at this time of night like fireflies in the night sky.

Like a great bird of prey my arms were outstretched, my wingspan wide, my Augment muscles large, tight, and well defined on full display, as my arms lay draped on the back of my sumptuous couch, a King in my gifted castle. I still had no idea what material it was covered with, but it was like a mix of suede, leather, and silk all in one.

Three months had already passed since I left the _Enterprise_ and arrived on Earth, taking up residence in the Bay Harbor Arms Apartments and yet it felt I had only just arrived back on Earth and in the 24th century. For the first two weeks, I woke up each morning having to convince myself that it hadn’t been just a really elaborate dream, that I really was in Star Trek.

Of course, it was hard to accept my new reality as actually _real_ when so much of it resembled my teenage era fantasies. Looking down didn’t help, as I only saw strawberry blonde curls moving up and down, my augment sized cock being practically devoured by a perpetually horny Annika Hansen during this long and slow blowjob. A fully naked, ridiculously sexy, _7 of fucking 9_ , was giving me an epic blowjob right now. So, yeah, I sometimes had a hard time believing that this was all real.

“Fuck, Annika, you’re such a needy, horny little _slut_!” I growled, knowing how much Annika loved dirty talk like that.

Reaching down I threaded the fingers of my right hand through those blonde curls and roughly made a fist, pushing her down onto my cock hard and fast to let her know I was paying attention to her. Her choking moans and the way her fingers between her legs moved even faster was testament to how much she enjoyed the rough treatment from me.

Pulling her up and off I gave her a chance to speak, “Y-Yes, but only for you, sir! Only for you!”

That declaration was made with total sincerity, even as her eyes were clouded with unbridled lust, none of the usual incredible intelligence, drive, and brilliance shining through in this moment, just pure primal need. She wanted it, wanted my cock and me.

“You better not come before I give you permission, _slut_! You haven’t earned it yet!” I growled, for effect, her rapid nods and increased fervor obviously telling me she liked it, forcing her down on my cock to the root, her mild asphyxia enhancing the moment’s intensity.

Releasing my will, I came hard in her mouth. Her mouth filling with my cum, to the point it was overflowing. She swallowed it all with a smile on her face. Apparently, my cum tasted amazing now, according to Annika, and she couldn’t get enough of it. She’d even reported feeling better after swallowing it, saying that she always felt energized after and general aches and pains were alleviated and she even thought she healed faster. The day after swallowing my semen she also reported feeling energized, more focused, more productive, and prone to bouts of creative intuition, essentially operating at a higher than normal level. I had no idea if that was true, but I sure as fuck wasn’t telling anyone about it, especially a Federation doctor. The chance that my semen was addictive was a fear that had been growing.

It wasn’t completely crazy according to my Star Trek knowledge. In Star Trek: Into Darkness, Khan’s blood had some miraculous healing powers that could cure disease and even bring people back from near death. At the time I thought that that was ridiculous and OP as fuck, but part of me was terrified my blood would have similar properties. The idea my semen might have some benefits, wasn’t crazy when viewed in that light. If it were true for me too, kidnapping me for study and keeping me as a living blood bank to sell would be a genuine danger. I wasn’t ready for that.

Her rhythmic swallowing and careful cleaning of my cock of all its juices brought me back into the moment and away from my currently unconfirmed fears. The stereotype was right. It was always the quiet ones who were the biggest freaks. And this sexy librarian had proven to have the soul of a sex demon, it had taken an Augment like me with an eidetic memory and enhanced body to bring it out into the light, here to stay. Thank God I was an Augment now who had near perfect control of his body or she’d have broken the old me. My erection now worked like a hydraulic pump, I just needed to flip a mental switch and I was in boner city. No matter how many times we had sex, no matter how long it took, or how many times I came, it was always ready to go, with little in the way of recovery time.

Our relationship had blossomed over the course of these past 3 months, though we still hadn’t made anything official. I was free to fuck other women and she other men, though I was _certain_ she hadn’t and had little desire to. Somehow, even though we’d never really talked about it, she could obviously sense that I was not in the market for a serious relationship, not when I was living the dream of being inserted into the Star Trek universe. There was so much pussy out there for this newly created Augment to slay, and this pinnacle of the human form would help me do it. That said, I was growing closer to Annika each day. In time, I feel like I could even love her, assuming she was capable of handling my lifestyle, meaning going on adventures in the galaxy. No matter how much I cared for her, there was no way I was tying myself permanently to Earth.

Pulling her roughly off my cock by her hair, I had her rise to her feet to push her up against the ‘glass’ wall of my apartment. If anyone could see in, which I knew they couldn’t, they’d see Annika’s huge and perky tits, D cups, pressed up against the cold surface.

Bending her deep at the waist, her hands flat on the glass in front of her, I gently kicked her legs further apart to gain access to that dripping wet cunt, roughly rubbing the head of my cock up and down her drooling slit, but only slipping a little inside.

“Beg me, _whore_. Beg me to fuck this cunt,” I ordered.

“P-Please, sir, please fuck this slutty whore’s body! Please stick your big, fat Augment cock in this cunt and take your pleasure from it! It’s yours, sir! It’s yours!” Annika begged, her chanting growing louder each time, just like I asked.

“You better fucking believe it, slut. This cunt is mine for as long as I want it, now get ready, I’m going to rearrange your insides!” I growled into her ear, my hot breath adding another layer to this encounter.

With that said, I slapped all ten inches of my new and improved cock on that fat ass a few times, her breath hitching in anticipation, her eyes now gazing back at me vacantly, filled with need, waiting, begging me to fuck her. In another dimension this would have been 7 of 9.

Grabbing her roughly by the hips, my upward thrust was a bit haphazard, uncaring which hole I took, luckily for her, penetrating her pussy balls deep in one thrust, rather than her ass. Her squealing and shrieking, moaning and whimpering in that moment, was music to my ears. Even though we’d had sex many, many times, on virtually every surface of this apartment and in many places in the university library, she had never gotten used to my size. Pumping into her at a quick pace, I let my hands roam all over her sexy body, often reaching up for those large and perky tits, twisting the nipples just enough to add some spice to this encounter. Grabbing her by the throat and gently squeezing, I pulled her back to devour her mouth, our tongues intertwining as I bent her back in an arch.

I still had no idea why this occurred, but being an Augment seemed to make humanoid women extremely submissive to me when it came to sex. In my old life I had been vaguely aware of dominance and submission as a sexual lifestyle, the _Fifty Shades of Grey_ books and movies being popular at the time, but had neither had a strong desire to dominate my partners, nor had any of my partners ever shown a submissive side in the bedroom. But for some reason, _every single humanoid woman I’d banged so far_ , with the exception of Guinan, had taken on a very submissive bent when it came to sex with me.

I certainly wasn’t complaining, but it did take some getting used to! Part of me had been shocked at how well I took to the role of sexual dominant and how much I enjoyed it. In the quiet moments after our first few times sleeping together, Annika had expressed how incredible our lovemaking/fucking was and how surprised she was at how much she enjoyed being the submissive to me, saying she’d never known that about herself and how fulfilling it was to switch her mind off and enter that ‘sub space,’ a place where I made the decisions and used her body for my pleasure.

I was happy to provide what she liked, I liked it too, but again, I suspected there was some kind of ancient humanoid instincts in the DNA that somehow triggered this behavior, because statistically it was kind of hard to believe that I kept finding submissive women to fuck. Could all humanoid women somehow sense I could provide them with strong babies?? Thank God Beverly had created a contraceptive injection strong enough to work even for my physiology, or else I’d have impregnated every sexual partner I’d had so far.

No joke, Beverly had needed to take and study a sample of my semen and found my sperm were just as augmented as I was. Without contraception, if it was even remotely possible for my partner to get pregnant, my sperm would likely get the job done. A new variant of the standard contraception for human men had needed to be created to deal with it. It was so strong, she’d told me that computer simulations suggested that a baseline human male would actually be rendered permanently infertile because of it.

Snapping back into the moment, I groaned aloud at the sheer pleasure I was feeling. Say what you will about smart girls, but if they put their minds to it, those same epic research skills could be focused on the sexual arts. Annika had been religiously practicing her Kegel exercises since we’d started having sex, because that cunt was rhythmically gripping and squeezing me.

Gripping her hips with near bruising strength, I started a fast pace that would have been unsustainable by a baseline human for more than a few seconds. My Augment physiology meant I could keep it up for however long I wanted. I was even toning down the strength of my thrusts as I didn’t want to break her pelvis. Annika obviously had no complaints as she was practically shrieking at the top of her lungs now in pleasure, the room reeking of sex at this point.

Gripping her hair, I pulled on it hard, yanking her back in time with my thrusts, spanking her with my other hand.

“I’m getting ready to cum, slut. Convince me to cum in that slutty cunt of yours!”

“P-Please, sir, cum in this slut. I don’t deserve it, but please use your bitch like the cum slut she is. I’ll be your cum dump whenever you want!”

“Get ready to cum, slut, I’m about to fill you up with my cum!” I roared.

Releasing my iron hard will, I let go and came inside Annika. She had waited for me, and started screaming aloud, her cunt going crazy squeezing like my cock like a vice, before seemingly going limp and falling unconscious. Thankfully I wasn’t so lost in the moment I didn’t notice her shutting down, as I caught her midair and brought her to the bed, my mind flashing back to our first night together and the 3 months I’d spent improving myself in this new time.

**XXXXX**

**3 Months Ago**

Looking up at the ceiling of my apartment, I felt rather content. Part of that probably had something to do with the smoking hot blonde bombshell that was lying naked in my bed, her head lying on my chest over my heart, her hair tickling my nose slightly.

She was stuck to me like a limpet, with one smooth and well-formed thigh thrown over my legs and was sleeping like the dead after the workout I’d put her through. The body control and stamina of an Augment certainly helped in the bedroom, but at other times it was a double-edged sword. My bed partner had conked out after her third orgasm and an hour of love-making, leaving me ready to go more. I had enjoyed myself thoroughly and had come too, but it was a strange feeling to know you could fuck all night.

In this rare case the spirit and body were both strong and ready for more.

Still, I had just banged 7 of freaking 9!! Well, kind of. Her dimensional counterpart had never become a Borg, but she was still smoking hot. As a super fan of the shows, I was pretty psyched. A short time in this dimension and I’d already banged canon women like Guinan, Lwaxana Troi, Keiko, and now 7 of 9.

Life was damn good right now, but I still felt a desire for more. I knew what was coming in the years to come. War on a level that eclipsed all the wars previously. My foreknowledge was also an advantage that could be exploited and set me up for a long, long life, if only I was smart, skilled, and positioned well enough to do it.

Right now, I had the education of a typical adult in the Federation, but none of the specialized skills that would better help me survive the troubles that were coming or allow me to take advantage of my knowledge.

I had so much to learn if I was going to get out in space, but thankfully I still had quite a bit of time before the shit really hit the fan.

**XXXXX**

**Learning to Program**

**A few days since arriving on Earth**

Sitting down at my new computer, I was feeling pretty confused. The lifeblood of an advanced civilization were its computers, without them everything here fell apart. They ran everything and modern life was fundamentally dependent on them, with technology intertwined at practically every level of life.

Just like in 2016, computers were nothing without their programing, the way we gave computers instructions. A computer, no matter how advanced, could do nothing until a computer programmer told it what to do. That was true in 2016 and it was true now, in the 24th century.

As a combat engineer, I hadn’t needed to know or do much programming beyond some bare basics, but I certainly recognized how important and valuable it could be in the right circumstances. Learning fundamentally, how the computer technology of the Federation worked and how to program computers, would be vital in my success in this time and to eventually captaining a ship of my own and designing and building new technology. That was why it was one of the first things I wanted to learn now that I was on Earth. My Augment mind was a super computer in its own right, it was time to apply that new intellect to this task. This was a skill that would probably make everything else easier.

Unfortunately, at the start of this ambitious goal, my mind was running off on a bit of a tangent, though a related one. Sitting in front of my computer, in this swanky ass 24th century apartment, I found myself rather disappointed, and pretty confused. The personal computer my apartment had was essentially a thin glass monitor panel. A bit futuristic, admittedly, but not exactly screaming 24th century tech. There was also no keyboard, or mouse, or any visible way to input things or type, which made zero kinds of sense to me. Was I seriously supposed to dictate everything aloud? Was that seriously the most efficient way to do things? It was cool, absolutely, but come on. I had seen a few instances of PADDs with a pencil-like stylus for some kind of input, but how did that work exactly?

Seriously, where were the advanced holographics for all this shit? I should seriously have a holographic display and control interface. This was the future, right?! I’d seen Data with a handheld holographic portrait of Tasha Yarr in that one episode, so the tech was obviously available, couldn’t they have created something like that for a computer display? Add in a bit of tech that obviously existed in the holodeck and you could have a dynamic display and control interface, fully tactile. With a holographic display I could pull some true Iron Man shit here, make a dozen displays floating in mid-air, manipulate it with my hands, touch it, spin it around, enlarge or shrink. But, nope. This monitor or display, or whatever the fuck it was called, wouldn’t have even been _that_ futuristic looking in my time. As an engineer this was driving me a bit crazy. The hologram tech had already been invented. Was it lack of imagination? I sensed an opportunity for profit here, and was potentially a source for a lifetime of profit, but that would be a long way off.

The personal computer technology of Star Trek was a bit of an unknown to fans of the show and the few glimpses we had been given had never made much sense to me. To be fair, though, fans had only gotten a few glimpses of what that might look like, and typically only in the context of a Starfleet ship.

On the _Enterprise_ D, we saw a handful of what could possibly be considered ‘personal’ computers, like in Captain Picard’s office or in a few of the bridge officers’ quarters. Those, though, looked like small, but thick laptops sitting on desks to the sensibilities of someone in 2016. Some had wondered if those in-office computers on the ships weren’t, in fact, essentially all terminals anyway, merely really shitty monitors and display devices and the ship’s central computer core did all the actual computing. The screens were tiny, the things didn’t have any kind of keyboard or mouse, and we never actually saw anybody touch the screen. Of course, we did see people _talk_ to the computer all the time, but that was it. Was this really the best of what 24th century technology could provide in terms of computing?

But, again, you had to remember the context. The shows were a product of their respective times, no matter how far in the future it was set, the show, Star Trek the Next Generation, had come out in 1987. Sure, they had laptops then, but the things were the size of a small briefcase, weighed 18 pounds, and cost like $40k a unit. You don’t even want to know the specs on it. So that prop computer on Picard’s desk looked pretty fucking advanced at that point in time. The show’s creators were obviously limited by the technology of the time and their own imaginations when the show was made. I once read an interview with a sci-fi director who said something to the effect that ‘if you didn’t want your tv show or movie’s tech to look dated in 5 years, you had to make your own.’

Star Trek had done an amazing job on that front in many respects, especially the 60’s era original series, which had inspired engineers for decades to come. TNG, though, not so much. The later series weren’t much better. Deep Space 9 had Cardassian tech, which was truly alien, and Voyager later followed the example TNG set when it came to computers. It was only with JJ Abrams’ Star Trek movie of 2008, set in Kirk’s time period, that the technology base of our time was advanced enough to show some cooler tech at work.

“Computer, I would like to learn all about the computer technology of the Federation and other major powers, including how to program for those systems. Is there a way for me to learn those skills in a practical fashion,” I asked aloud to the room.

“As a staff member of the University of San Francisco library, you have access to the interactive learning programs offered by Starfleet Academy on that subject. Would you like to begin the coursework?” the computer responded.

That was exactly what I was hoping to hear.

“Thank you, computer. Can you display what this learning program includes?”

A great deal of information filled my display’s screen. And what a course of study it was. A Starfleet cadet had some serious expectations placed on them, especially those entering the engineering officer track. The other officer tracks, like command and sciences, obviously needed to know a lot of this, but the engineers’ course of study was far more in depth and detailed, delving deeply into the programming of a starship’s computer programming and functioning. Of course, this was a learning program created by the Federation, meant for a wide variety of potential species with varying levels of knowledge and familiarity, so it was pretty comprehensive and essentially took nothing for granted in terms of what the user was supposed to know already. That was a Godsend. It included everything that was covered in the years before the Academy (though optional), the four years of formal schooling in the Academy, plus advanced topics that would take someone firmly into the doctoral coursework levels.

The interactive courses, with practical exercises and evaluations to complete throughout to test the student’s proficiency and grasp of the material, was set out in painstaking detail on a timeline or sequence, one topic building up to the next, then to the next, and so on. I was pleasantly surprised that around the late 3-year mark, the programming methodologies of the Klingons, Romulans, and a handful of unique Federation member worlds, were optional study areas. That was smart and was probably meant to serve as a source of contrast to standard Federation programming techniques. Seeing the differences in how the various races did the same things could be rather illuminating and a budding engineer/programmer could get some good ideas from how other races tackled similar problems.

Unfortunately, there was nothing on Cardassian programming techniques, which would probably be pretty fucking useful if I ever found myself on Deep Space Nine. I’d have to see if I could purchase or acquire something that could help there. Best case scenario, I could find something meant to teach Cardassian civilians how to code, worst case, I could try to reverse engineer their programming techniques and style by playing with some Cardassian tech.

I guess it was time to start, the journey of a thousand miles and all that. While I was excited to learn, too bad there was no fast forward on this training montage.

**XXXXX**

**Holodeck 42. San Francisco University Library. Earth.**

**Three months since arriving on Earth**

‘Well, wasn’t this familiar,’ I thought with humor, as I entered one of the staff holodecks in the university library. It very much followed the _Enterprise_ holodeck aesthetic with the large black square panels outlined in bright ass orange lines. The room itself was rectangular and probably half the size of the holodecks I had used on Picard’s ship, but that made sense. There were a shit ton more holodecks in this library than there were on the flagship.

Working in a library definitely had its advantage, and banging the head librarian into a pleasure coma on the regular also didn’t hurt when it came to reserving a holodeck for some training.

It’d been a little over three months since I had arrived on Earth and yet this was seriously the first time I’d set foot in a holodeck, that should tell you just how long and difficult a topic computer programming was in the 24th century. I had probably spent 12-14 hours a day since I arrived just studying that, in a state of hyper-focus and multi-tasking that was unique to the abilities of an Augment, since it certainly wasn’t possible for a baseline human. Having a hot blonde willing to give a long, lazy blowjob under your desk at the drop of a hat helped a lot. A little over three months of intense study and I’d completed an interactive learning program that covered 7-8 years’ worth of study.

For some reason, it had just clicked. The total logic of it, the clarity, the beauty of it. Yes, a well written program could be beautiful in the same way a painting, or a musical work, or sculpture could be beautiful. When done well, it was a harmony of purpose, a work of elegance and efficiency.

The Federation’s standard programming languages, techniques, and methodologies were a harmony of purpose all their own considering how many races were part of the Federation. At the beginning I couldn’t really spot the difference, but now it was like someone had painted the various bits of code in a different color, font, and size. Each race did things differently, thought differently, viewed and conceptualized the world and universe in slightly different ways and with enough practice and experience you could easily spot and identify which race some particular bit of programming came from, or what race had influenced it. Federation programming was a bit of a mutt like that, but just like a mutt, it was stronger and healthier and more robust than its pureblood cousins for having been combined together.

But that wasn’t my purpose for today. I was ready to take my next step in this training montage. And this time I’d be learning something a bit more traditionally fun and physical, something that could save my life one day.

“Computer, give me a standard Starfleet hand phaser, the design currently in use,” I ordered aloud. Moments later the computer placed a small long, rectangular table in front of me with the phaser sitting on the table top, the black and orange grid on the walls still visible, since I hadn’t asked for anything that would have affected the environment.

For several moments I geeked out, the smile on my face being stupidly large as I looked down at this piece of Star Trek fame. That lasted about a minute. I looked at the weapon from as many different angles as I could, turning it over, picking it up, and taking fake shots at imaginary targets with my own sound effects. In hindsight, I probably looked like a fucking idiot, making firing sound effects when I had as close to a working phaser as I could get without having the real thing. Why was I going “pew, pew, pew?”

‘This will never be spoken of,’ I thought embarrassedly, clearing my throat.

The type 2 phaser was sleek, silver colored, with a handle flowing into the form of a muzzle cowling and emitter. The weapon featured a large, illuminated power level readout, with two small buttons for beam width and intensity control, and a larger one to actually fire the thing with your thumb. A power level readout was pretty vital. This thing fired energy, not bullets, but the power cell was finite, just like ammo, and when you ran out of energy, well, that was that, you had a paperweight to throw at someone.

“Computer, show me the technical schematics and details,” I ordered, a great deal of data now appearing in midair, which I quickly scrolled through and read. None of this was classified, in the same way that the technical schematics of a Glock weren’t in my time.

This thing had 16 power settings, ranging from stun to heavy stun to kill to disintegration. The energy beam it fired could also be set to narrow, affecting a single target, or to wide beam, affecting two or more targets over a wide area. It could be used as a weapon, a cutting tool, an explosive device, or an energy source.

Yes, undoubtedly a cool looking weapon in the show, but after a few minutes, looking at it with the eyes of a soldier and engineer who had seen combat… Well, this thing was not something I’d want to take into battle.

Bottom line, this was a tool, a multi-function tool, rather than a true weapon. It was just trying to do too much! Like the designers were afraid to really make a weapon meant for one purpose, to fight and kill. No, the type-2 phaser was like the Swiss Army knife of weapons. A Swiss army knife was a great multi-function tool, extremely useful for a lot of tasks. For fighting and killing, though? Well, it had a knife, sure, but good luck if you tried to take that knife to war and stab somebody with it with the intent to kill or to defend yourself from someone trying to kill you. Yeah…it was _possible_ , but not exactly easy or likely.

Why did they give up the pistol-style configuration? I know the phasers in the 23rd century, the era of Kirk, had pistol grips, so why give it up The humanoid hand hadn’t changed in that time. Picking it up, I tried to visualize fighting with it. The way the weapon was designed meant you had to hold it kind of awkwardly, and almost entirely one-handed. There would be no easy two-handed grip for stabilization. Because it was essentially a one-handed weapon and there were no sights to speak of, you basically had to fully extend your arm and lock the elbow, using the arm like a sight. How fucking awkward.

“Computer, give me a humanoid silhouette target at 20 feet.”

I picked up the weapon, turned it on, set it to stun, narrow beam and fired.

A crimson bolt of continuous bright ruby red energy flew down range to strike the target in the heart. A shot to the heart wasn’t exactly necessary anymore for stunning or killing, but I guess some habits were hard to overcome. They had been ingrained in me over the course of many hours on the range after all.

Sighing with a frown, I set the weapon down. A loud beam of bright red energy streaking through the air and creating a direct trail straight back to your position seemed nonsensical and outright fucking ridiculous. It was like shouting your position to anyone with eyes, allowing them to know exactly where the shot had come from. What was the purpose of that? Had advanced sensors and life sign detection rendered this aspect of combat obsolete? That just didn’t track with my memory of the shows. People were always finding ways to mess with the sensors or hide their life signs.

I could see this continuous firing beam being a good idea in one sense. You could fire and then essentially adjust your aim in real-time to strike the target, like with a tracer. You wouldn’t need to peer through your sights to adjust, though this weapon didn’t have sights. I’d only seen one episode in all of series where a phaser was fired like that, though. The rest of the time it was like they couldn’t adjust the beam after it was fired. Like they were firing a gun with a bullet and adjusting its trajectory after it left the barrel was an impossibility. In a small unit, it would also clearly indicate which target you had chosen. That was kind of useful.

No, a pulse firing mode was a much better option in my opinion, like the style the Klingon and Jem’Hadar used for their energy weapons. If I was designing this weapon, I’d get rid of all this fluff and embrace that it’s a weapon meant to kill. Then I’d do something about how fucking loud it was and how bright the energy beam was. Seriously, making the energy pulse small, compact, and dense, while toning down the color, would make it far more useful.

“Computer, show me a Klingon military disrupter and a type 1 phaser, include technical schematics and details.”

Picking it up and handling it, I fired it at the target.

The Klingon disrupter was a weapon meant to kill, having very few frills, a longer barrel with rough iron-like sights, and a pistol style grip (though a bit weird) allowing for a better grip.

The type-1 phaser, also known as the cricket phaser, though I’m not sure where I’d heard that, was actually an impressive weapon. It had eight settings, ranging from stun to disintegration. There was no grip whatsoever and you fired it with your thumb again, but if only for its extremely small size, it was impressive. It was perfect for diplomatic missions where a visible weapon wouldn’t be a good idea or when you needed to conceal it for undercover work. I had no complaints about that. It’d make a great holdout or backup weapon, though its small size meant the power cell was small. That was the tradeoff. It had just enough power to be fired once on its highest setting, disintegration, before the power cell was totally depleted, and up to 10 times on stun and 5 times on kill, alone.

After firing it a few times, an errant thought struck me, hard. These were energy weapons, why on Earth was a beam of energy moving so fucking slowly?! Seriously, I once saw someone duck out of the way in an episode. That wasn’t going to happen with a bullet. In the show I thought it was just because of the special effects limitations of the time, or the need to emphasize the beam to maximize it’s cool factor. In war, it was just plain stupid. I’d have to look into speeding it up somehow if I ever designed a weapon of my own. I mentally added it to my ever-growing list of design projects.

“Computer, begin Starfleet Academy weapons training program and small unit tactics interactive learning program.”

The holodeck environment changed to that of a classroom with drawings of the type 1, type 2, and type 3 phaser, otherwise known as the phaser rifle. A gruff looking human officer in uniform with a severe frown on his face also appeared, bringing back some unpleasant memories from my time in basic.

Looking directly at me, the man projected like he was shouting right in my face.

“Welcome to Starfleet weapons training for cadet officers! In this 3-phase course you will learn to care for and use these weapons. At the end of this course, if you pass, you will be fully qualified on these weapon systems and can own these weapons in the Federation and use them during your service with Starfleet. In phase 1 you will learn how to disassemble, clean, and reassemble your weapon, as well as safe handling procedures. You will also learn how to safely change and/or recharge the weapon’s power cell, diagnose and determine weapon malfunctions and perform basic repairs. You will _not_ be firing any weapons during this phase. During phase 2 you will fire your weapon. The objective of this phase is to get you used to safely and accurately handling your weapon. You will also learn how to hit your target and will receive feedback about your downrange performance and advice how to improve your marksmanship.”

Damn, some things changed, and others stayed exactly the same. It was eerie how similar this was to my military training. The weapons may be more advanced, but this training was practically the same. As for marksmanship, I had a feeling being an Augment gave me a huge advantage on that front that I didn’t have before. I was looking forward to testing that out. After becoming an Augment everything physical came easy to me.

“During phase 3, you will complete the official qualification course and exam. You must pass the minimum standards set in order to graduate from this weapons training course to begin small unit tactics training. You will shoot targets, single, pop up, and interactive, from three firing positions, supported prone, unsupported prone, and foxhole. If you pass this training course you will receive an official license to purchase and possess a firearm in the Federation or be issued one onboard a Starfleet vessel.”

Well, that was useful. I’d have to confirm this was the case, but from the sound of it, passing this course in the holodeck actually meant I’d be granted an official firearm license from the Federation.

Directing my eyes to the training officer, I indicated to him (and the computer) I wanted to begin.

**XXXXX**

**Holodeck 49. San Francisco University.**

**4 Months Since Arrival on Earth.**

It had taken a month to complete my firearms training and to learn everything a Cadet officer would learn about small unit tactics and shipboard combat with firearms. Much of it I had a profound disagreement with, but I felt it was still a good use of my time to learn what a Starfleet officer would have. Energy weapons did require different tactics and handling; that was mostly true.

I had many positive takeaways from it, the best of which was learning all about the energy weapons of the Federation, and the various other powers. I could disassemble and reassemble, clean and repair them blindfolded now, in seconds. I’d also qualified as a master marksman, for whatever that was worth in this day and age, my enhanced sight and hand/eye coordination making hitting my target easy, regardless of movement. The reflexes of an Augment and the targeting computer in my brain were fearsome things.

The course was very useful though. Energy weapons were not the conventional weapons I had been trained in and used during my time in the military. They were still weapons, but the underlying technology and mechanics meant I had to learn some different ways of thinking. One such thing was a lack of real recoil when firing. Because the fired energy has a practically zero ratio of momentum to energy output, the weapons produced a negligible recoil at best, which changes the way you handle and fire the weapon. That put the fucked-up grips of the type 2 hand phaser in a different light, but I still thought it was stupid for other reasons. Gravity and wind speed also affect energy weapons very little, except on particularly long-range shots, but even then, it was far less than with a traditional projectile weapon.

Some of the negatives, though, were problematic when I knew the alpha quadrant would face war in a few short years. Humanity had somehow forgotten many lessons of war. It’s like the 24th century Federation had forgotten its existence was not by divine mandate, like it no longer needed to fight to survive. The 23rd century Federation would be ashamed at what they had become.

During my training I was shocked at the fact that no form of standard armor existed in Starfleet’s forces. They also had no modern weapon equivalents for combat knives, machine guns, grenade or missile launchers, mines of any sort, grenades of any sort, drones (weaponized or otherwise) or artillery. The list went on. The few heavy weapons available, like phaser canons or photon torpedoes, were only intended to be mounted on ships. It was silly.

My training and experience from the 20th century, honed in Iraq and Afghanistan, sometimes in battle, would be incredibly useful in this time, simply because these guys, including even the Klingons, fought like it was still the wild west where we just shot weapons at each other, mostly hand weapons, till someone got hit.

Luckily, this training course granted me a license at the end of it, and that was useful. I was now licensed to purchase and possess a type 1, 2, and 3 phaser in the Federation. That didn’t give me the right to have one on my person on a Starfleet ship or other official government installations or buildings, though, which made perfect sense.

I was surprised they even allowed their citizens that much, but the mentality of the average Federation citizen was quite different from my time. Acting on a hunch, I had pulled up the statistics on weapon ownership and had learned that only 0.3% of the entire Federation population had a weapons license, even though the licensing course and test was not that onerous. The training program I had taken, designed for people on the way to becoming Starfleet officers, people who would routinely use phasers and potentially fire them in combat or on away missions, was far more rigorous and comprehensive than the ones actually intended for civilians.

The civilian license was basically just a safety training course and some range time to show that you could semi-accurately fire the thing on target. Of course, the civilian licensing test only allowed the person the right to purchase and possess a phaser up to type 2.

The people of this time just didn’t see the need for it. The Federation was safe and easy, after all. Boy, would they be in for a surprise when Federation worlds were occupied by the Jem’Hadar during the Dominion War, like Betazed had been.

**XXXXX**

**Curious Curios. Outside San Francisco. Pescadaro, California. Earth.**

**Four Months Since Arrival on Earth**

If a pawn shop and an antique store got together and had a baby, this store would be that baby.

On a whim I’d asked my apartment’s computer for a place where I could buy technology, Federation and otherwise. Amongst the many listings, this place’s name had stuck out. In my time a place like this could have some hidden gems in it; I knew that from personal experience, having made some incredible finds while on tour in Iraq.

This place was in a huge warehouse-like building, looking like one of the big-box stores of my time. I was already intrigued. Entering the store, a beaming man, human, in his late 60s, greeted me. He had a very middle Eastern look to him, which brought a wave of nostalgia.

“Welcome, my friend, to Curious Curios! I am Azad, the owner and operator of this fine establishment! How can I help you today?” the man apparently named Azad asked. His enthusiasm brought back some good memories from the markets of Iraq. Those folks knew how to hustle.

A genuine smile was now on my face. “Hello Azad, I’m Gothic,” I responded, as I shook his hand gently, careful to moderate my strength. “I don’t have any specific goals in mind for today, just wanted a look around to see what strikes me.”

“Of course, of course! You seek an adventure in my shelves! Azad will provide! If you have a PADD I can send you a map of our warehouse.”

Pulling out a small PADD from my pocket, I set it down on the counter, Azad obviously having done something because it beeped indicating it had received a transmission. Picking it back up I saw an interactive map of the store was now available. I activated it and boggled at it for a moment. A blinking red dot on the map now indicated where I was in the store, in real time. Putting my PADD on the desk had obviously identified it to the system that controlled this store.

“Azad, just how big is your store?” I asked, paging through the list of areas, all clearly labeled by category, many of which were intriguing, like weapons, tools, computers, replicators and starship components. The map of this place looked like a labyrinth of paths and shelves.

The answering grin was clearly one of pride, “My store’s warehouse space spans over 1 square mile, containing items of all types from all over the alpha quadrant, not just the Federation! As you can see from the map, each area is clearly marked by category,” he said, tapping on my PADD gently to show what he was talking about. “The blinking dot indicates your current position in the store and provides clear instructions to get to each area and the most efficient path back to this spot. If you don’t know what something is,” at this he threw a wink at me, “or want more information, simply scan the item with your PADD. Doing so will bring up a description, technical schematics and details, a price and brief history of the item will appear, possibly how we acquired the item. You can even complete the purchase while in the warehouse itself, the credits being automatically deducted from your personal account. Anti-grav sleds are scattered throughout the warehouse at most intersections, feel free to use them to retrieve larger items and bring them to the front. If the item is too large, simply call for assistance or pay a small additional fee for in-home delivery.”

Well, that was certainly convenient.

“Thank you, Azad, I’m getting excited already!” I joked.

This place really was shaping up to be an adventure and I needed the break. The last four months had been spent in intense study and I felt like I was on the cusp of burning out. Stuffing years’ worth of study into a few short months would do that to you, Augment or not. Hyper focus for that sheer length of time was unnatural, after all.

“Please signal me on your PADD if you require any assistance. Your PADD is connected to our system while in the store and it can function like a communication relay.”

With that I entered the large doors to the warehouse. Interestingly, they were in the style of the cargo bay doors on the _Enterprise._ Maybe that was Federation standard for such spaces??

I was unprepared for what I saw when the doors opened. As far as the eye could see, semi-neat rows of 12-foot-tall shelves stretched out before me. In many ways, it reminded me of the scene in Raiders of the Lost Arc when they were storing the crate containing the Arc of the Covenant in some mysterious government warehouse. My eyes were darting to and fro as I wandered aimlessly for a while, scanning items with my PADD when I didn’t know what the item was. That happened an embarrassing amount of time.

I was currently in the alien art antiquities section, which I had limited interest in, but it was still intriguing what had ended up here in this store. My eyes fell on a small statuette that I distinctly remembered from an episode of TNG. Scanning the item with my PADD, I read the brief description available.

_Horga’hn – Statuette – Polished and Oiled Obsidian - Fertility symbol on the Federation planet, Risa, representing sexuality. Purchased at an estate sale by Curious Curios._

I was tempted to buy it, mostly because it was something I recognized from the shows, but since I wouldn’t likely be traveling to Risa anytime soon, it’d probably be best to wait. If I ever did end up visiting Risa, I’m sure I could pick one up there and figure out just what the hell ‘jamaharon’ was. It obviously had something to do with sex, most things on Risa did, but TNG was too kid friendly to explain.

Looking at my PADD I found the section labeled ‘weapons.’ After a month of intense training, I was curious just what this place had. If the items I had seen so far were any indication, they’d likely be old. Nothing here was new, but that was part of the fun. You could order new items from just about anywhere on the planet using credits, but this place was all about the find, unique artifacts and antiquities from all over the quadrant. It made sense, not everything was replicated or was cheap enough to be put back into the replicator for recycling. People died, people wanted to get rid of old stuff, people needed money so they’d sell something, and other species came to Earth all the time looking to engage in commerce and trade. It looked like a lot of stuff ended up here after a while. That suited me just fine.

Several weapons interested me, but the Klingon and Romulan disrupters, a Klingon d’k tagh, and a 23rd century Starfleet phaser caught my eye. It was a bit of risk, but I wanted them all to study. I had taken apart the Klingon and Romulan disrupters a thousand times on the holodeck and could do so blindfolded now, but a holographic weapon was only good on a holodeck. All of these were currently uncharged, and thus non-functional, but the power cells could be charged with a universal charger, also for sale.

The Klingon combat knife, from what I could tell, had not belonged to a noble house as there was no iconography of a Klingon family on the hilt of the blade. The inventory database indicated it was a standard knife issued to soldiers in the Klingon military. I was interested in studying the blade’s metallurgy to make a knife of my own using the more advanced materials of this time.

The 23rd century Starfleet phaser was the most curious of all. It was definitely a better designed weapon than the modern type 2 phaser used by Starfleet. Unlike that one, this early design had a pistol grip, which offered a lot more stability and firing methods, a more traditional trigger and trigger guard, rudimentary sights, and a smarter power cell location in the hand grip of the weapon for quicker and easier changing of the power cell. I could see several ways to improve upon this design too. What was curious was that this was not the phaser we saw in TOS, in the time of Kirk, but in the alternate reality Kirk timeline like seen in the 2008 movie. Some shenanigans were at work or the 60s era show didn’t do as good a job with that prop weapon and this was the true weapon of that time period, but I’d take my luck where I could. The design, while kind of silly in the way it changed between its stun and kill setting, was a definite improvement over the modern version.

Buying these weapons was a bit of a risk; the Federation might be rather unhappy with the idea of me buying three energy weapons, and I’m sure they’d know practically instantly, but I had looked it up and it was perfectly legal. Of course, there was a big difference between _legal_ and a _good idea_ , especially when I was trying to distance myself from the violent and tyrannical Khan-era Augments who had nearly destroyed Earth, but I couldn’t live my life in fear like that. The soldier in me was definitely happy with the idea of having some protection, just in case. The engineer in me was happy about taking these designs and coming up with something even better.

Moving on, I walked for about 5 minutes at a brisk pace to the next area I was interested in, non-Federation technology. I seriously didn’t recognize half the shit here, having to scan the items one after the other to learn just what the hell they were. I had mostly given up on finding anything all that interesting when I found two items tucked away behind another item, hidden from view.

If you knew what to look for, with just a glance at the design and look of a piece of tech you could often tell who had made it. The design aesthetics of a race could actually be quite distinctive. Certain colors, certain angles, certain shapes, common iconography, if you knew what to look for it could often be pretty obvious with just a glance.

Having seen 7 seasons of Deep Space Nine, taking place on a Cardassian designed space station, the design aesthetic of the Cardassians was something I was pretty familiar with. They favored this burnt orange, orangish brown color scheme, with a lot of curved lines and circles or half circles. I had a suspicion as to what this was, but I wanted to confirm it. Scanning the item, I read the description.

_Cardassian Tricorder – A multi-function hand-held device used for data sensing, analysis, and recording._

This device had been sold to the store by a Ferengi trader. That made sense, the Ferengi were known to have a trade relationship with the Cardassian Union so them acquiring it wasn’t hard to believe. As the Federation had superior technology to the Cardassians in just about every way, this wasn’t an incredible find of strategic value. It was very valuable to me, though. Not for its sensors, but for the programming that ran the device. I couldn’t wait to get home to pick its coding apart to learn how their programming worked. A tricorder, in particular, was an interesting device with a lot of different technologies and functions built into a small package.

The next device was clearly Ferengi in origin. I’d seen many bits of Ferengi technology on DS9, so I was pretty curious what this was. Scanning the item, I was again, very happy I’d stopped and checked this out.

_Ferengi Virtual Design and Pattern Manufacturing Computer – A computer used by Ferengi engineers to virtually design items and create replicator patterns, when applicable. Acquired at impoundment auction._

This was a seriously lucky find. Since I had arrived in this time, I had been marveling at the wonders of this time. 24th century technology was amazing and could do some pretty crazy stuff, but sometimes I was struck by just how dumb something was in practical terms or how it could have been done so much better. They often had the technology to easily do something better, but they didn’t. For example, the computer monitor in my room or the stupid design for their weapons. To be fair, though, the weapon design might just be a different mentality at work, favoring a multi-functional tool approach versus a weapon designed solely to kill. The Federation and Starfleet were pansies like that, never fully embracing the military-like role they reluctantly took on.

I was excited for multiple reasons. Since I had arrived in this dimension my mind had been going crazy coming up with new designs, ways to improve my survival chances in a galaxy that I knew would be embroiled in war. In my head, at this very moment, were multiple partially completed designs for armor, weapons, better uses of holography, etc. I might have been many times stronger, smarter, and faster than a baseline human, but I was far from unkillable. In fact, it would be pretty easy to take me out. All my designs so far were attempts to improve my survival chances or make money.

At any point I could have used various computers or holodecks I had access to take what was in my head and start the virtual design process, maybe even replicating the items or purchasing what was required. Virtual design in the 24th century was something that had existed even in the 20th and 21st century, but 24th century technology took it to the next level. You could take designs and test them to see if they were viable, and in a myriad number of other ways, and from these designs you could create a replicator pattern or holographic template to put it through millions of simulations to test how it would perform in various conditions. If your design didn’t require materials that couldn’t be replicated, you could build the thing virtually, then turn around and just replicate it for real. If you made the effort to create a modular design, you could keep those non-replicable components as something you added later on. Meaning you could replicate 95% of the item and merely adding whatever components couldn’t be replicated later on, for example, like putting in a magazine into your pistol.

I had been extremely reluctant to use a Federation computer for that thus far, because I had no doubt that everything I did would be monitored. No way was I sharing my designs or plans, only for them to steal or develop countermeasures for everything. I needed the 24th century version of an ‘air gapped’ computer, an alien computer was close. A Federation version of this computer would not have been hard to acquire, merely pay the credits and I’d have one of my own, but I had no doubt that Section 31 had built in backdoors in all Federation software that would have allowed them to see everything I did with it; they might have even built in hardware hacks that a replicator would dutifully reproduce. It’s what I would have done if I were them. My paranoia was strong and I doubt I was wrong. How else can you explain how they moved about the Federation so easily, completely undetected, for centuries. I guarantee you they built in backdoors or overrides in the computers and software that ran all Federation installations and ships.

The only chink in their armor came in the form of alien technology, where their influence was more limited. In an episode of TNG Bashir and O’Brien had successfully captured Sloan. The only reason that worked was most likely because it had occurred on DS9, an installation built by the Cardassians and still running their operating software. If it had happened on a Federation installation or ship, I have little doubt Sloan could have just told the computer to release him or something silly like that.

In this case, I was betting this Ferengi computer, running Ferengi operating software, was a much more secure option. The Ferengi were a paranoid race and their computer security and encryption schemes were some of the very best in the quadrant. Corporate espionage was practically an art form in their society, so a design computer was one of their better defended pieces of technology. Of course, I had plans to conduct a thorough scan of my own, even adding in some security and encryption programs I’d designed myself as an intellectual exercise during the doctoral portion of my computer programming training, but building a working operating system from scratch was beyond my current abilities, at least insofar as it’d probably take a few years, hence why this was such a great find.

I had little doubt the previous owner had left some backdoors or surveillance software, but I’d much rather go toe-to-toe with some greedy Ferengi than take on the might of Starfleet Intelligence and Section 31, using Federation hardware and software they had likely thoroughly infiltrated and compromised from the start. If I ever received any Federation tech I’d have to comb through its software with a fine tooth comb, maybe even designing a program to do it autonomously, because it could be hidden in trillions of lines of code. The hardware was going to be harder to track down, but I’d figure something out.

The first thing I’d do would be to disable its wireless connectivity…and only store designs on an external memory device, never on its internal memory, then keep it on me at all times. The only way I’d store it on some computer was if I controlled and owned that computer outright, after an exhaustive check.

I could finally start building things, things that would help me survive this time.

With these plans in place, I decided it was time to go home. I had been in this cave of wonders for over 4 hours now and I had plans with Annika tonight. Walking swiftly back to the entrance area, I took a path that led me around the outside wall of the warehouse, my eyes scanning the shelves as I walked by in case I spotted something interesting I should come back on some future day to check out or might need in the future. An eidetic memory was a godsend sometimes.

When my eyes landed on a shaped I recognized, I stopped mid-stride. It couldn’t be… Getting out my PADD I quickly scanned the item.

_Hovercrusier Model 924M – 23 rd century anti-grav vehicle with ion propulsion drive system, capable of exoatmospheric flight, used primarily by the militaries of the time. Civilian models of the 924 were often used by civilian law enforcement. Acquired at government auction._

“Well, fuck me silly and call me Sally,” I whispered aloud.

I remembered this thing. In J.J. Abrams 2008 Star Trek movie, a young Kirk, joyriding in his late father’s classic Corvette, was chased by a member of the Iowa police on their Hovercruiser 924. This vehicle was styled like a standard motorcycle in some ways. Well, if a motorcycle was missing its wheels, and floated above the ground…and had wings. It was an insanely cool vehicle and finding a military version of this thing was lucky. It even had an ion propulsion drive, which would provide an insane amount of power since it was basically a stripped-down shuttlecraft engine, which was probably the only reason it was rated for exoatmospheric flight. The level of thrust required to exit the atmosphere was nothing to scoff at.

It must be capable of insane speeds with that engine. Its top speed might even be unsafe for a baseline human to even handle. Looking at the historical info on my PADD confirmed it. They had not made many of this type, the engine was just too overpowered with the operator/driver exposed like this. The stripped-down civilian version had been far more popular. Even with a weaker engine on that model, specialized ‘riding gear’ had been required to operate it safely.

Getting down low, I got on the ground and looked around at it more closely. This thing was definitely the military model. The wings were bigger than what I’d seen in the movie, thicker and more solid, with fixed hard points for mounting heavy weapons, probably rockets or missiles or something, and the underbelly had a turret mount too, probably for a phaser cannon of some sort of sensor system. The weapons were obviously missing, but the mounts were there.

I had to have it! But how much was it?

“Fuck, that’s steep,” I said, looking at the price tag. Twenty thousand credits was a lot of money. The weapons were a thousand each, and the Ferengi computer was seven thousand. I had not expected to spend thirty thousand credits on this shopping trip, but I couldn’t pass this up.

**XXXXX**

“I see you found a few things you liked!” Azad, the store owner, practically shouted. Obviously happy I’d found somethings I liked and would be making a sale today. Even in the future shopkeepers were all the same.

Looking at the weapons and computer on the small anti-grav sled, I had to agree, chuckling.

“You’re absolutely right, Azad. You’ve got an amazing store here, but this isn’t everything I’ll be buying today. You said I could get larger items delivered to my home,” I answered, placing my PADD on the desk. “I found a Hovercruiser 924M; I want it. Can you arrange delivery to my home?” I asked, knowing my address information was part of my identity profile. Thankfully my building had parking for residents for a small additional fee and there were plenty of spots left.

“Of course, of course!” Azad replied, happy he was making such a large sale. “The weapons, however, require a license you know,” he warned, now unsure if that sale was in jeopardy.

“I know, it should be on file,” I answered confidently, gesturing for him to check.

Azad called up my identity profile on his own PADD and nodded. “Yes, I see it now, a class 1 weapons permit, via a Starfleet Academy interactive training course,” he read aloud. “Are you a cadet at the Academy?” he asked me eagerly.

“No, no, not a cadet,” I answered with a laugh. That’d be the day. “I do have access to their training programs, though, which granted me the license.”

The ability to get official licenses from holodeck training programs was really freaking convenient. Of course, not all licensures were available that way, though often the highest-level ones were the only ones that required ‘live’ testing with independent verification. Normally a class 1 weapons license would have required a live testing, but since I had used the Starfleet Academy training program and completed it an ‘officially’ licensed holodeck owned and maintained by the University, thus checked frequently for tampering, it was accepted. Even then I needed an official witness for my final exam. Annika, as head librarian, had to be present and sign off that everything was in order to certify the results. She had been rather turned on by my animal machismo on display--girls dug badass men with guns that knew how to use them--and had practically dragged me into her office so I could fuck her on her desk.

“Very good, everything is in order then. The Hovercruiser 924M can be purchased today, but it does require a pilots’ license to operate, as it is capable of exoatmospheric flight, unlike a standard hovercar which merely requires a driver’s license,” he explained.

Now, that, I didn’t know, but it dovetailed well with my plans. The Academy had an excellent starship pilot program. Of course, that was the bare minimum I wanted to learn. I wanted to be able to operate my own starship in the future, largely on my own. That meant I needed to know how to operate it, including how to conduct maintenance and repairs. I needed to know every system on that starship intimately.

“That’s next on my to-do list, Azad. I won’t be flying it, driving it, or whatever you want to call it till I get the appropriate license. Thank you for all your help today!” I replied, before shaking his hand and leaving the store, the 30 thousand credits having already been deducted from my account.

**XXXXX**

**Class 2 Training Shuttle. On route back to Earth.**

**10 months since arrival on Earth**

“Congratulations, Mr. Gothic, you have successfully passed your final pilot’s exam,” Master Flight Instructor Sienna Johnson congratulated.

I was currently in a Class 2 shuttlecraft, _in the real world_ , not in the holodeck, taking my final pilot’s exam. The Class 2 shuttle was a short-range auxiliary space vessel used by Starfleet as an embarked craft from Starships. They were small, with a crew complement of 1 to 6, capable of only reaching a maximum of Warp 4, but were a workhorse vessel in the fleet. There were a ton of these little vessels in shuttlebays all over the quadrant and was a favorite cadet training vessel for Starfleet Academy. Since the training program I had been using all along was an Academy created and sponsored one, I was required to use an Academy instructor and ship, which was fine.

Becoming a private pilot in the Federation wasn’t an incredibly onerous task, though it did require a good bit of time and hoops to jump through, but becoming a licensed commercial pilot, meaning I would be allowed to pilot a ship with paying passengers and commercial cargo, well, that was far more of an involved process.

This process has started over 6 months ago, when I had purchased my hovercruiser. It had begun with basically a crash course on flying and starships, in general, which I had absolutely needed. I had never been a pilot in my old dimension, after all. That had been intense, but incredibly fun, luckily there were many programs available from the Academy meant to train cadets who might never have even set foot in a starship before, much less piloted one. After 10 months of training, often with an Academy interactive learning program in the holodeck, I had a tremendous amount of respect for their training regimes. They were well designed and exceedingly good at bringing a young cadet from practically zero knowledge to being proficient in whatever the program was meant to teach. I didn’t always agree with what was being taught, but it was presented extremely well. Given how good these programs were, it begged the question why Starfleet was often experiencing manpower shortages and could not field as many ships as the Federation economy and infrastructure would allow.

Over the course of many simulated ‘deaths’ on the holodeck, I had learned how to operate a starship, including how to change out critical pieces of technology during a crisis. Things like how to swap out an ODN or plasma conduit, how to swap a warp coil, how to prevent a warp core breach when the magnetic containment fields collapsed, how to plot a course in and out of warp, even how to navigate in an ever changing and chaotic asteroid field. These were less sexy and fun then taking a ship into simulated combat, which I did plenty of on the holodeck, but it was part and parcel of owning and operating your own ship. Ideally, I’d find crew to help me do various things, but a certain minimum level of competence was required of a captain. Ignorance could kill just as easily as a disrupter bolt.

The path to today was a long one. Before I could even start a pilot training program I had to demonstrate starship proficiency with numerous written exams, pass a medical and vision exam, learn how to create log entries, speak properly to flight control, how to maneuver, conduct maintenance, then log a huge number of hours in the cockpit, etc., etc. Thankfully, the vast majority of these flight hours could be completed in the holodeck. It was only a few of the exams and the final exam that needed to be conducted live and by a certified instructor, rather than a holographic one.

Master Flight Instructor Sienna Johnson was a civilian pilot attached to the Academy who regularly conducted these licensing exams for non-cadets. She was also a beautiful Latina woman with straight black hair, a tight curvy body, with a large set of tits that strained her skintight unisuit. Seriously, her top looked like it was one jiggle away from unzippering in the front and letting her girls out to breathe.

“You passed with flying colors, Gothic,” she said with a smile on her face, a smile that had more than a hint of something lascivious behind it. “I’ve never seen a human pilot with such incredible reflexes. You tackled Terra’s asteroid belt with no issue and I threw some seriously esoteric flight emergencies your way and you didn’t even bat an eye. Color me impressed.”

“Thank you, Instructor Johnson,” I answered with a smile of my own. “I’m built a bit better than the average bear and have some advantages most don’t,” I joked.

“The average bear, I’m not sure I understand.”

It was moments like these that reminded me I was far from home.

“Ah, yes, it’s an idiom from my time, from an animated children’s show. The character’s line was ‘he is smarter than the average bear’, because he was an animated bear,” I explained rather awkwardly, in my opinion. “I’m referring to the fact that as an Augment I have some distinct advantages over a baseline human.”

This lack of understanding with idiomatic phrases that didn’t exist here happened semi-frequently. Annika was actually a fan of learning them, being such a fan of history, and she often used them with me once she’d heard me say them once or twice, which meant I still used them. I appreciated the thought behind that, as it was a little piece of home in an unfamiliar time.

“When they told me you were an Augment, I had no idea what to expect, but call me a believer now. Your hands were flying across the control console so fast I could barely make out what you were doing! Your ability to quickly evaluate a situation, devise a solution, and then react, was amazing and so fast it almost appeared precognitive. I can definitely see why Augments were so feared, you blew the Academy record for this exam out of the water. They’ll be checking the logs for sure to confirm,” she gushed, her excitement doing interesting things to her bountiful chest. “It was exciting to see you work those controls, it makes me wonder what else an Augment can do in and out of the _cock_ pit,” she said slowly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

“Why don’t you hop onboard and find out,” I said, staring intensely into her eyes and glancing to my lap.

She needed no further invitation as a moment later she’d jumped out of her seat, threw her leg over my lap to straddle and began to grind her ass on my cock, her lips descending on mine with a palatable hunger. Throughout the flight test she’d been the height of professionalism and poise, but now that the test was over, the tigress had come out to play. Just like I’d wanted to do this entire flight, I pulled the zipper down on her flight suit to let those big tits free. I promptly buried my face in them and motorboated her like a mother fucker.

Being an Augment was pretty awesome sometimes! Thank God the official log recorder ended when the test completed, because we were about to get _nasty._

**Postscript Author’s Note:**

Training montage!! Well, I enjoyed that, did you? Gothic is well on his way to kicking ass and taking names. And just to be clear, not all the training he did appeared in this chapter. There was martial arts training and a few other things. What other skills and training do you think an Augment SI should have done in the Star Trek universe? If I like it enough, I might work it in a future chapter.

Next chapter we’re probably going to be leaving Earth and not returning for a while. Things are going to get exciting! Stay tuned and please be patient and if you want to encourage me to devote my limited time to writing, please leave a review, even a brief one. It makes a world of difference.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to or part of Star Trek. This fan fiction was written purely for fun.

Happy Thanksgiving to all my readers in the United States and around the world!

A sincere welcome to the several hundred new readers I’ve picked up since the last chapter and Noodlehammer’s shout out in his story! I’ve been beta/editor for his works for years now, since For Love of Magic first began, and I’m still in awe of how complex, entertaining, and consistently updated his stories have been over the past several years. He’s seriously one of the best fanfiction authors out there. In the _extremely_ unlikely event you are reading my story, yet have never read any of his, I strongly suggest you check out his amazing works on FFN.

Several common things people mentioned in the reviews for last chapter, variations on ‘show, don’t tell’ or ‘have this information come out in dialog with another character’; well, I hear you guys and agree. There are several reasons why that wasn’t really an option thus far. First, unless I start creating a lot of throwaway OCs there aren’t a lot of people for him to talk with yet, besides Annika. Second, Gothic doesn’t trust anyone. He is paranoid and knows just how far Section 31 would go. He’s not keen on sharing his thoughts and plans with anyone. Third, as an Augment, his mind is enhanced, which means he lives a lot in his head. He can think of and explore numerous different lines of thought in the time a normal human would have one. Fourth, while I’ve done research on topics that I know shit all about, like computer programming and how to pilot anything, I’m just not knowledgeable enough to even fake those scenes well enough. That results in a bit more after the fact kind of stuff.

I promise, though, as the events of the story take him away from Earth and he becomes more competent, he’ll have more people to talk with.

There were also questions about the timeline of training. Below is a rough breakdown of it. I’ll try to make it easy to follow in-chapter.

**Timeline of Training:**

0 – 3 Months – Computer Architecture and Programming

3 – 4 Months – Weapons and Tactics

4 – 10 Months – Starship Operations, Engineering, Piloting

**The Adventures of Augment Gothic**

**Chapter 7**

**Engineering Workshop 31, San Francisco University, Earth.**

**6 months since arrival on Earth**

People on the _Enterprise_ had looked askance at me, then incredulous, then had smirked, practically laughing at how the big bad Augment wanted to work in a library of all places. Well, I was having the last laugh, I thought, glancing around the array of sophisticated technology around me. Advanced diagnostic equipment, a design computer I wouldn’t touch with a 10-foot pole, admittedly, advanced fabrication equipment and a small industrial replicator that wouldn’t look out of place in the engineering section of a front-line Starfleet ship.

Just like how a music school back in my time had instrument practice rooms for their students to practice their art, San Francisco University, being an old and prestigious school, with a well renowned engineering department, had engineering workshops available for their students. These were well-appointed workshop that students could reserve for weeks or months at a time to practice or work on their own projects for a moderate fee. Luckily, just like with the holodecks, these workshops were open to faculty and staff too and a dozen or so were available in the basement of the library. A privilege I was happy to make use of after I had acquired my Hovercruiser 924M, several energy weapons, a Ferengi design and fabrication computer, and a Cardassian tricorder.

At the moment, all of my purchases from Curious Curios were sitting on the padded surface of a worktable, with the obvious exception of my new bike. It was tucked away to the side for the moment. My plan was to conduct various diagnostics on it to confirm everything was in working order before ever attempting actually flying on the thing. Azad had assured me it was in perfect condition and flightworthy, even providing an engineer’s certification of that fact, but I wanted to take it apart a bit and become familiar with all its pieces and parts. Should it require upgrade or repair in the future, that familiarity would be invaluable and could even save my life.

As it was, it’d be several months at least before I was able to acquire my full pilot’s license. The license required for personal flight, though, called a personal pilot’s license, was significantly less involved and time consuming to achieve than the final one would be, the one that would allow me to take paying passengers and cargo in a ship I was piloting. Taking a non-paying passenger up on the bike, like Annika, was allowed and would not require the higher licensure.

I was very much looking forward to taking my new bike on her maiden voyage. A hot blonde clutching my stomach, her big tits pressing into my back, seemed almost like a requirement.

Hearing the solid, reinforced doors open behind me, I turned to see who was coming in. For a myriad number of good reasons, the person reserving an engineering workshop could secure access to the space and prevent unauthorized entry. Annika, as the head librarian, was on the authorized list by default and could enter any of these spaces.

Looking at my beautiful lover, I was again in awe of her beauty. She was rocking her ‘sexy librarian’ look today, a white semi-sheer blouse that hinted at the lacy black bra underneath, with buttons only a few inches above her sizable bust and puffy sleeves. Her grey skirt had a thick band from under her bust going to her navel, flowing down to her knees, but emphasizing how fit and trim she was by sitting tight on her hips. It emphasized everything, while showing nothing. The glasses she wore were purely cosmetic, rather than needed, but really helped sell the whole look.

The smile that lit up her face as she saw me brightened the room. What a woman.

Making her way to me without saying a word, she bent down to my sitting level, took both my cheeks gently in her hands, and gave me a sweet kiss, even loving I might say. Our lips parted moments later.

“What was that for?” I asked, a soft smile on my face.

“No reason, just missed you,” she answered softly, before taking a seat in my lap, tossing her right arm around my neck. “I heard you reserved a workshop. I was curious what you were doing in here.”

She was now looking around the room, taking it in. I hadn’t had a chance to tell her about my plans. As I technically worked under her, she must have seen my name flash across her system. The library was her domain and she was its Queen.

“I went shopping, do you like? These are going to be a few of my projects, at least when I’m not working or studying,” I explained.

“Gothic, you are seriously the most ambitious man I’ve ever met,” she said, sending me a fond smile to indicate she quite liked that about me. “You’re going through Starfleet Academy learning programs that normally take people _years_ to complete, but you’re doing it in a matter of months. What’s the rush?”

Looking down, I gave her question some thought. What kind of answer could I give her? What answer would keep both me and her safe? Of course, the main reason I wasn’t taking it easy was my foreknowledge. This quadrant would be embroiled in war in several years’ time. In that sense, I did have some time to relax and take it easy, at least a little, but I also felt the need to take advantage of this opportunity I had been given.

I was a huge Star Trek fan placed in the Star Trek dimension! I was made an Augment, made the peak of the natural human form! I suppose part of me was thinking the other shoe was going to drop at any moment, that it could all be taken away from me if I didn’t live every day here like it was my last, just like it had been randomly given to me, at least that’s how it seemed. Another part of me was itching for adventure, but I knew that, as I was, with just how much I was still ignorant about, it would be stupid, dangerous, and irresponsible of me to leave the relative safety of Earth before I was ready.

The siren call of adventure was hard to ignore. As much as I enjoyed Earth and even being with Annika, I wanted to get out there and experience what this dimension had to offer. None of the shows showed someone just chilling on Earth, after all. I also wanted things that were mine and mine alone, a starship that would let me travel the stars freely, with no one to ask permission of, and a home that was all my own. My apartment was awesome, and I was grateful, but it was a handout, a gift, and therefore it would never truly be mine.

“I genuinely don’t feel like I _am_ rushing, Annika. You know my story, I wasn’t born an Augment, I didn’t have these incredible natural abilities in my native dimension. What I did have, though, even then, was ambition and a desire to improve myself to the best of my abilities. The best of my abilities is night and day different for me now, and I’m still in awe of how amazing and different this time is,” I answered passionately. “This is literally the future for me! I wake up every morning thinking this has all been a dream. I can’t help but want to learn _everything_ , especially now that my mind makes everything seem so easy.”

She looked thoughtful now, “I guess I can see how exciting and new this all is for you. If I woke up one day as an Augment, so much more than I was before, I suppose part of me would want to take advantage of that as quickly as possible, devouring knowledge on a wide range of topics. Everything I didn’t feel capable of before or wasn’t naturally inclined to, or just didn’t have the time to learn… I get it,” she said, looking me in the eyes. “So, what are these projects you’re working on?”

Dislodging her from my lap, I took her by the hand to lead her to my workbench.

“Take a look for yourself.”

She took it all in, looking intrigued at the Ferengi computer and Cardassian tricorder, an eyebrow raising at the weapons and the Hovercruiser.

“What do you need an old type-2 phaser, and a Romulan and Klingon disrupter for?” she asked.

Color me surprised. “You know what these are?” I asked.

“Of course, I do,” she answered, laughing at me. Obviously, some of my surprise had shown through. “I could probably field strip and clean each of them. I’m an excellent shot too,” she mocked, sticking her tongue out at me, real silly-like.

I raised a single eyebrow, Spock-style.

“I think you forget that I spent age 4 to 20 living on a starship, Gothic, traveling from one end of galaxy to the other with my parents on their research expeditions. We didn’t always have the luxury of staying in Federation space, where it was mostly safe. We needed to be able to protect ourselves, so my parents made sure I knew how to use and maintain weapons like these,” she answered, obviously delighting in stupefying me. “Once I was old enough, I was in charge of logistics and purchasing for our ship, the _Raven_. My parents were not always the best planners in that regard. Long voyages, oftentimes far from a Federation starbase, required a lot of supplies to keep us fed and the ship operational, which meant regularly doing business with unscrupulous people. I, we, had to be tough and not act like easy marks that they could take advantage of.”

Sometimes I forgot just how unusual a childhood she had had and why she was keen on staying on Earth. There were hidden depths to this beautiful woman, a life that 7 of 9 might have had if she hadn’t been assimilated in childhood. She probably knew many times more about business, negotiating, and life on a starship than I did.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more attracted to you,” I said, totally straight faced, and I meant it. Her reticence to leave Earth and her library made more sense now.

Her peal of laughter was delightful.

“You’re such a man.”

“You better believe it, baby!” I replied, giving that fine ass of hers a spank, to which she just rolled her eyes. “To answer your question, it’s a combination of wanting to study the weapons and for personal protection. I _was_ in my nation state’s military,” I explained. “I suppose I just don’t feel comfortable without a weapon of my own, _yes_ , even here on Earth. And I did it right! Class-1 license and everything! As for everything else, well, I was an engineer and I love to tinker. These things caught my eye. The Ferengi computer and the Cardassian tricorder are going to help me deepen my understanding of alien computer programming. There was nothing on either races’ programming techniques in the Academy training program.”

That was mostly true, though I did have plans to design my own weapons and armor in time…amongst other things.

“And that thing?” she asked, pointing at my new bike.

“Well, you did say I’m a man,” I said with a wink. “It was just so cool I couldn’t leave without it! This is not your dad’s hovercar, it’s over a hundred years old, but in perfect working condition. It even has an ion propulsion engine for exoatmospheric flight! They don’t make ‘em like that anymore,” I gushed.

She looked intrigued, but dubious. To be fair, it was akin to riding a motorcycle into space, which sounded pretty insane now that I thought it.

“Don’t worry, I won’t take it out before I get my personal pilot’s license. I’m not a purist either, so I plan on upgrading it a bit to modern standards to increase its safety. Care for a ride in a few months’ time?” I asked with a grin. My smile was infectious.

She nodded and gave me a kiss, “Are we still on for dinner tonight?” she asked as she turned and walked to the door.

I nodded, eyes locked on those swaying hips. She laughed at how I was so obviously checking her out, before she was out the door.

**XXXXX**

Cardassian programming was interesting, and rather distinctive once you became familiar with it. Somehow, looking at the lines of code scrolling on my smartboard display in my engineering workshop, it was like I could feel the race was militaristic and totalitarian, emphasizing the collective, valuing the good of the State versus the individual.

The programming was hierarchical, ordered to an extreme, forcing the user to conform to its rules, expectations, and design, rather than being adaptable and responsive to requests that fell outside normal operating procedure or established rules, which was likely why Chief O’Brien on DS9 had such a difficult working relationship with the station’s computer systems.

Some of the methods were rather cunning and harsh, insofar as such a thing was possible in a programming language and methodology, but was far too rigid for my tastes outside of a handful of specific circumstances. In those limited circumstances, though, the programming was more efficient than anything I’d seen so far.

I had learned a lot from the programming of the Cardassian tricorder, copying some of the more ingenious little tricks and security concepts in a few programs I was writing. Thankfully, a nifty little security program I had written during the doctoral portion of my training had already spotted some questionable coding in the device and immediately quarantined the programming, thus preventing it from working, flagging it for my attention and review. My program was designed to go through every line of raw code, searching for those little bits and pieces that couldn’t be fully hidden. In this case, as I later determined, there was background logging of all the tricorder’s activities and notable sensor data.

Essentially, when the tricorder came into range of another Cardassian computer, which all had the receiving program built into the base operating system, it would automatically initiate a download of flagged activities via a subtle short-range transmission, which would then eventually make it back to the Cardassian government and the Obsidian Order most likely. Thankfully, being on Earth, rather than a Cardassian world or installation, there were no Cardassian computers in range. It was a nifty little program, quite subtle in many ways. God knows how much worthless data was sent this way across the entirety of the Union, but the Cardassians were known data packrats. Totalitarian governments often spent a lot of time and resources watching and fearing their own citizens.

Right now, though, this Cardassian tricorder was intensely scanning a Starfleet engineering tricorder that I had just replicated in this very workshop and paid for from my personal account. The replicator pattern used was the one approved for use in Starfleet.

I heard a ‘beep, beep, beep’ after an hour of intense scanning, indicating its scans of the device were complete. The tricorder’s hardware was clean, with no additional nefarious components detected. On further reflection, though, maybe that made sense. Federation engineers were always futzing around with their tricorders, modifying them left and right to solve whatever problem had presented itself to them. It’d only be a matter of time before someone found something, purposely or accidentally.

Hardware replacement was also not on a standard timeline, even in the Federation. Not everyone had access to a replicator that could produce them or wanted to waste the energy on such a thing when tricorders were built to be hardy and last a long time. But there were regular updates to a tricorder’s software for various reasons, like adding some new function, or to fix bugs, just like how Windows was regularly updated in my time with some new patch or service pack. Unless something went wrong with that update, no one gave it much thought; they were practically invisible. These updates were distributed across the Federation and were mostly automatic. Very few people had the skill or inclination to do such a deep dive in the operating software to find anything.

My security program finished minutes later, isolating several thousand lines of code. Looking at the flagged code, the best I could determine was that it was designed to change the way the Federation tricorder reported sensor readings, or in this case _didn’t_ report them.

“You clever, sneaky fucks,” I whispered to this empty room. Not worrying at the moment about being overheard. These workshops came standard with advanced shielding to protect the rest of the University from an accident taking place inside. The shielding could also be adjusted to act like a 24th century version of a Faraday cage, essentially isolating a room by excluding external electrostatic and electromagnetic influences. Delicate experiments and advanced technology in development needed controlled environments. Many an experiment, technology, or research result had been thrown askew, failed, or were outright destroyed because of some external influence or unforeseen interaction. It wouldn’t even look unusual for me to have activated this shielding.

What that meant was that this room was isolated, self-contained, and the only energy signatures present were created by the things that were in this room. If I was looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack, isolating this room would be like I had radically reduced the amount of hay. Therefore, if the needle is there, it would be much easier to find, or, alternately, to prove that it’s _not there at all._

Section 31 had hidden from Starfleet and the Federation for centuries. In this advanced society, though, that presented unique difficulties, especially with how many tech geeks there were around. Sensors were ubiquitous and advanced. The only way you’d ever really live ‘off the grid’ would require a move to a brand-new colony, and unless that colony eschewed technology as a philosophy, good luck on that lasting long. Section 31 were part of the Federation government, in a sense, but their secret existence meant they couldn’t exactly move around freely and openly. If they traveled in ships of their own or transported aboard a Federation ship or got into places they shouldn’t be, sensors would pick them up. In this case, the Federation tricorder’s software was instructing it to not display certain sensor readings, even if they were detected. Who knows what other hacks Section 31 had built into the operating systems that controlled Starfleet assets.

Since I had arrived in this room I had both the Federation tricorder and the Cardassian tricorder running a continuous broad spectrum scan, before and after I had turned on the shielding, even when Annika had opened the door to enter and to leave, thus breaking containment. A close comparison of the scan results, side-by-side, showed some discrepancies between the two results, specifically an anomalous energy reading the Cardassian tricorder reported that the Federation tricorder hadn’t. As the Federation device was, on the whole, a superior piece of technology, that made no sense without more to explain it. The _more_ in this case, though, was the hidden coding which instructed the Federation tricorder to not report those readings to the user.

I could have isolated that nefarious coding from the outset, but I wanted to know what those energy frequencies were, to see it at work in how it prevented the sensors readings from being revealed to the operator. And that’s how I found three surveillance devices in my workshop, and their energy frequencies.

How had I detected them? Did Starfleet Intelligence or Section 31 only expect me to use or have access to Federation technology, tech which they had already circumvented? What good was a ‘bug’ like this if it could be detected by an alien device? Did they not think I’d be advanced enough with the computer technology of this time to detect them?

I tried to give this more thought. If I was designing a 24th century bug, advanced technology all around, I would make it adaptive, to perfectly hide from the relevant scanning technology using its counter, or inverse, or whatever you wanted to call it. In this case, I hadn’t used one scanning technology, I had used two, from two very different races with two very different technological bases and methodologies. That was much harder to counter and thus hide from.

But, _whatever_ , my suspicion was confirmed; I now had a choice to make. What should I do now that I knew I was being spied on? Destroying the bugs was an option, but that would be provocative and any sufficiently paranoid intelligence outfit would assume I had found them and had a lot to hide. That would cause them to wonder what I was hiding and force them to up their game, perhaps in ways that I couldn’t easily determine. Worst case, they might even bring in the evil Augment for interrogation. If it was Section 31 that was doing the interrogating, it would likely be an ‘enhanced’ interrogation with Romulan mind probes or outright torture.

No, the safest course of action was to do _nothing_ , but that would seriously stifle my activities. I had no plans to do anything truly illegal, but designing new weapons and armor might raise some eyebrows and I didn’t want the attention. But I also didn’t want to live in fear like this, constantly afraid of how something ‘might look’ to the Federation powers-that-be. If you weren’t moving forward, you were moving backward. I wasn’t going to waste this time and the resources I currently had access to. It’d be a long time before I had these resources again.

Tapping away on both my tricorders, I played on a hunch. No matter how advanced the technology, things still broke, adjustments needed to be made, etc. That meant these devices probably had some kind of remote linkup for diagnostics, updates, or new instructions. The trick was to figure out how to do that. Possessing the equivalent of a doctoral degree in computer engineering and programming was a great help in this endeavor, with my personally designed hacking program getting me into the command level of these devices. From now on they would see only what I wanted them to see and would look to be in perfectly normal operation. If they were ever retrieved, the programming I added would self-delete. There was no way to hide my legitimate purchases I’d made at Curious Curios, the weapons and the hovercruiser both required active licenses to possess and pilot and Azad had had to make an official inquiry about my license status, so that’s what they’d see me doing, tinkering with the things they already knew I had.

Whether I was truly successful or not was unknown, but everything looked good on my end. I had a feeling that if they had realized I would be able to complete years and years’ worth of education in advanced computer engineering and programming in only a few short months, they’d have been far more cautious in using tech to spy on me. Live intelligence gathering would have been safer.

**XXXXX**

Even in the 24th century, working under your bike was a dirty job. Of course, in this case, the bike could fly through the air using anti-grav technology and go into space.

My bike was now in pieces spread all over my workshop, the main frame of the bike sitting on a lift. In my old life I hadn’t actually had all that much experience working on vehicles like this. That just hadn’t been part of my job as a combat engineer (and thus not part of my training) nor something I was all that interested in, but it was strangely satisfying now, something I was figuring out as I went along, though the starship engineering courses I was currently taking were helpful.

No, in my old life as a combat engineer I had constructed fighting positions, fixed/built floating bridges, obstacles and defensive positions, placed and detonated explosives, conducted operations that included route clearance of obstacles and rivers, prepared and installed firing systems for demolition and explosives, and detected mines visually or with equipment.

In Iraq and Afghanistan my skills were in high demand. In Iraq I helped breach buildings and homes with explosives, destroyed captured enemy munitions, and helped build obstacles and defensive positions around bases. A good design there could stop a suicide bomber in their tracks, even if they were in a vehicle rushing the main gate at high speed.

In Afghanistan, I built fighting and defensive positions on mountaintop outposts in the Valley of Death, as it was called, in the Korangal Valley. Unfortunately, I also had to deal with the thousands of active mines leftover from the Soviet occupation of that same country, something I always worried would one day be my end.

From every diagnostic I had run so far, this bike was in excellent condition. In fact, I’m not sure it had ever seen any use beyond the flight checks done in the factory. That wasn’t terribly surprising. Militaries often bought more than they needed and in this case there were other factors at work.

A swish of a door opening behind me indicated someone had entered my workshop.

“Gothic! Can you turn that down!” Annika yelled, obviously not liking just how loud I was playing my music. Listening to loud rock music while working on your ride was practically a requirement in my mind.

“Computer, pause music,” I yelled, throwing a smile at Annika.

The music playing had been 1968’s Born to be Wild by Steppenwolf, a perfect song for working on your bike. The speakers of the 24th century were amazing and I felt like had been in front of the band as they played on stage. Like so many other things, this song and this band hadn’t existed in this world, for whatever reason. It was from my own database, from the music I had had in my apartment and on my computer when I had been taken from my old world. This song had actually been on vinyl, something I had inherited from my father when he passed. If I had known that the only music from my world would be what was in my apartment that day, I’d have made more of an effort to acquire more. Thankfully going to college in the era of illegal music sharing, I had a lot stored on my computer when I was grabbed. Lucky for me, I had always insisted on the highest quality format for these ripped songs, rather than the more compressed and memory efficient mp3 format. If I was going to listen to pirated music, it’d be the best it could be.

“What brings you here, babe?” I asked, cleaning my hands on a towel I had replicated for the purpose. When I was done, I’d just toss it back in the replicator for recycling. That certainly helped keep my workshop clean and organized.

Looking around at the bike pieces I had on practically every surface of the shop, she answered, “You received a delivery that I had to sign for.”

“Why did you have to sign for something?” I asked, honestly confused. “Do they still do that in this time?”

“High-value non-replicable items typically require a signature to prove delivery,” she answered, obviously enjoying teaching me yet another thing about this time that no interactive learning program would ever teach you. They were just too mundane. These little things were the things I often struggled with, as no one really thought of them till some situation came up. These were just the things you picked up by _living_ in a society. “What did you order?”

“They’re here already!? Wow, they move quick,” I answered, as I moved to remove the formed packaging around the items. I guess when you could easily replicate protective foam packaging molded to fit the item perfectly, that’s how you sent things. “Uh, I ordered a new power core, a micro life support unit, and a small modern shield generator for my hovercruiser.”

“Why did you need that? I thought you said everything was in working order,” she asked, but now sounding intrigued at what I was doing. She knew I liked to tinker and many of the ideas I’d shared with her were rather fascinating to her; she often expressed wonder at how someone hadn’t already thought of this or that. My outsider perspective on things actually seemed to turn her on a bit, especially when I had ideas that made her practically facepalm.

“I am keeping many of the original components. Anti-grav technology hasn’t changed all that much in a hundred years, same with the ion engine, so I kept them. The older designs are actually more robust and less finicky than the newer versions because they’re a simpler design,” I explained continuing to carefully remove the items I’d ordered. “I took detailed scans of everything after the tear down so I have the data to reproduce parts, as needed. As for the new parts, this was a military model, and it was overpowered for its time. The engine was just too strong and its top speed posed a genuine danger to the operator if they weren’t cautious.”

“I still don’t understand,” she said.

“This isn’t a hovercar where the driver is enclosed in a compartment, surrounded by a bunch of safety equipment. On this thing the driver/operator is exposed to open air and the top speed is much, much higher than on a standard hovercar because of the ion propulsion engine. Even with protective clothing, the buffeting air and air friction at such high speeds is dangerous. That’s ignoring the dangers of leaving the atmosphere, with the air thinning to nothing and the risk of your blood boiling due to the air pressure dropping.”

When she didn’t respond, I looked up. She was looking a little dubiously at the bike now. Maybe I shouldn’t have just blurted that out.

I gave her a hug to offer her some comfort, “That’s why I’m adding these parts. Shielding technology has come a long way since the 23rd century. The new shield generator will provide a small shield envelope around the bike, and one on the operator. And a micro life support generator will provide air and heat even in space,” I explained. “The old power core was actually pretty strong for its time, but I’m adding a lot of power-hungry tech with the shields and life support generators.”

That was mostly true. Those devices were power hogs and the old power core just wasn’t cutting it anymore. The modern power core would provide ample power for the bike and this new tech; it would also provide the additional power needs of any energy weapons I added to the bike in the future. At least when I acquired them; _that_ wasn’t going to happen on Earth.

“That makes sense,” she whispered into my shoulder, before pulling back to look me in the eyes. “Please promise me you’re being careful, Gothic. I know you’re an Augment, that you can take more punishment than a normal human, but you’re not invincible. This thing could kill you if you’re not careful,” she practically begged.

Leaning down, I kissed her softly. “I promise, Annika. I know I’m still mortal,” I said. All my actions, all my efforts to improve myself, my plans to build personal armor and better weapons for myself, all of it was because I was fully, _painfully_ aware of that fact.

“What’s that last item in the box,” she asked, pointing to the small rectangular block with controls that could fit in the palm of my hand, almost like a thick smart phone.

“Oh, that,” I answered with a smile. “Want to hear a history lesson?”

Her response was blowing a raspberry at me. Now that had no meaning in this current time, but I had once told her a funny family story and had explained what it meant. She was very sweet in using it. It was like a little piece of home.

“That, my dear, is a personal force field,” I answered. “You know I’m a bit of a history buff, which is ironic, I know, because I’m talking about history in the 22nd and 23rd century and I was born in the 20th. _Anyways_ , in the 23rd century, Starfleet personnel used life support belts [i] to emit a personal force field which supplied the wearer with the appropriate atmosphere and protected them from the elements in hostile environments. Shield technology has come a long way, since it’s no longer the size of a freaking belt with a bulky power unit,” I joked. “This will protect me on the bike even if there is a catastrophic system failure. Since its entirely separate from the bike’s systems, it won’t be affected. I learned from Data that the guy who kept me displayed like an antique vase had one of these too.”

That was _almost_ entirely true, even the historical component. Life support belts, the precursor to personal shielding technology, had actually been used in the 23rd century. I saw that in an episode of Star Trek: The Animated Series and had confirmed it later. What I wasn’t telling her was that a modern personal shield would even protect me from being shot with energy weapons. Since my bike was capable of such ludicrous speeds and altitudes, it was the perfect cover for buying one, even though this little device had been stupidly expensive, costing even more than the entire bike had been, to be honest. Thank God my holo-programs were selling rather well and providing a steady stream of income or I would be having a cash flow problem, though I still would have bought this device. Anything that could potentially save my life was money well spent.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing! Why doesn’t Starfleet outfit all their people with one of these? They could save lives!” she asked, seeing the implications of such a device. Her facial expression turned thoughtful, “Would a shield like this stop a phaser or disrupter bolt?”

_Fuck._ This was the problem with dating brilliant women. They were smart enough to see and realize things you wish they didn’t.

“I don’t know if this device has been tested for that, but probably,” I hedged, acting like I hadn’t considered that. “As for why it’s not issued to all Starfleet personnel onboard a starship, why does any government not do things that would otherwise protect their people and save lives? _Money_ , Annika, _money._ The Federation’s citizens might turn their nose up at the thought of making money and money issues, but it certainly plays a role in their government’s decision making. This little device is extremely sophisticated and has some very expensive materials required to make it, materials that require traditional mining and a lot of time to refine. In other words, while it would almost certainly save lives, it’s just too _expensive_ to provide to that many people, especially without a large enough war to justify the exorbitant spending.”

“You can’t be serious, Gothic, we don’t think of things in those terms anymore. We’re beyond that! If something would save lives, we’d do it!” she protested. Maybe this was an opportunity to open her eyes a bit. Of all the indoctrinated, ‘drink the Kool-Aid every day and love it people’ in the Federation, I suspected she would be able to see the truth.

“ _But they don’t_ ,” I answered earnestly. “Why spend so much money to protect personnel when they could build new ships instead or conduct scientific experiments? Or spend it on far more _important_ things in their opinion? That’s the way of governments, though they’d couch it in more politically correct terms, like ‘priority resource allocation’, or ‘limited production and manufacturing capability’, or ‘cost/benefit analysis.’ Supply and demand, micro and macro-economic theory…money matters, all of it still influences decisions in the Federation, even if it doesn’t fit the propaganda. I think you already know what I’m saying is true. You dealt with the logistics of your family’s ship for years, supplying it, dealing with Federation resource allocation limitations, dealing with alien traders and governments to buy what you needed.”

She went quiet at my answer, looking thoughtful.

“I’ve got to get back to work. We’ll talk later,” she said, before giving me a kiss and then leaving.

Challenging someone’s long-held beliefs was a tricky thing and fraught with dangers. I think she just needed some time to think about what I’d said.

**Bonneville Salt Flats. Utah. Earth.**

**8 months since arrival on Earth**

It had taken a few months of work, and more diagnostics, scans and simulations then I would care to admit, but I was satisfied with my new bike and thankfully so was Annika. The components had gone in with minimal trouble and everything checked out as of yesterday. Who knew she was such a worrier?! That worry had resulted in a few, admittedly, good changes to the bike.

The original Hovercruiser 924 had come with a full body flight suit, including a metal face mask which enclosed the head and had numerous sensors and visual recording devices on it. The cop in the 2008 Star Trek movie had worn one. Whatever flight suit the 924- _M_ , the military model had had, was lost to time, as Azad had not had it and I couldn’t find anything about it in the records. The information on the civilian law enforcement flight suit I had found, though. That was insufficient considering the much more powerful engine and higher rated altitude for the military model, though it was certainly possible the two flight suits had been the same. Riding leathers, no matter how more advanced the equivalent material might be, just weren’t going to cut it.

Thankfully, I hadn’t needed to reinvent the wheel. An orbital skydiving flight suit, which I’d seen B’Elanna Torres use in Star Trek: Voyager, had many of the features I needed already. It was made from a material that could withstand atmospheric re-entry after all. The additional life support it came with was just overkill at this point, considering the shielding, the bike’s onboard life support unit, and the personal shield emitter, but whatever.

I had kept the metal face mask/helmet from the original 924. _It was badass_ _looking_. A line stretched from one side of the eyes to the other, with an optical sensor over the left eye, two large speakers built into the cheeks for talking to others, and one large camera surrounding by four smaller radiating cameras and sensors centered on the mouth. The HUD software was in a historical database, which I had updated. I added a subspace communicator to the system and the ability to give verbal commands to the bike’s onboard computer, which I had also upgraded.

“You look sexy as fuck right now, Annika,” I complimented. She looked damn sexy in the flight suit I’d bought specifically for her. That it was skintight, well, that was for aerodynamic purposes or what not.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. “You couldn’t have picked a prettier day for the first test flight,” now looking around.

It really was a beautiful day, the sun was shining brightly in the sky, it was a nice 75-degree Fahrenheit, with thick cumulus clouds spread out all over the sky. There was a light fog on the ground, befitting how early in the morning it was with the mountains visible in the distance.

“Thanks for coming with me today, I think it’ll be fun,” I said. We were completely alone on the flats, not a soul visible in any direction as far as the eye could see.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in Utah before, why do the test here?” she asked, still turning around in place taking in the pretty sights. In the age of transporters there was no scenic route, no journey to the destination, you simply arrived where you meant to.

“The Bonneville Salt Flats were where many land speed tests were done in my time, since it’s long and flat. This entire area used to be a lake, at least it was two and half million years ago. I’d never come here in my old dimension and it seemed fitting to test my bike here,” I answered, feeling a bit embarrassed by my nostalgia. It hadn’t been a huge inconvenience though, just a few minutes to get to the transporter station and a second to arrive. That was fine, I had plenty of transporter rations issued to me that I had never used and so had Annika, not traveling all that much.

“You do know you have a _hover_ bike right? It doesn’t need a flat surface,” she joked, looking at me pointedly.

“Hey, I get it!” I snarked back. “Nostalgia is one of the most powerful forces in the galaxy!”

An eye roll was her only answer.

“So, do you like the changes I made?” I asked. “You had some good ideas.”

And she actually had. The non-military model bike did not have the potential to reach the speeds or altitude mine did. The flight suit I had designed would protect me from atmospheric friction and lack of air, but I was pretty embarrassed when she pointed out that the bike did not actually have anything to keep the rider _on the bike_. Gravity wasn’t totally negated while it hovered over the ground, else you’d float off, so gravity was keeping the rider in the seat, as well as their grip on the handlebars. But go too fast, without shielding, make a maneuver too quickly or aggressively, go upside down, and you could go flying right off the fucking thing. I practically facepalmed when she pointed it out.

Seriously, there were a couple of foot pegs and some handlebars to keep the rider on. What were the designers thinking? After she had pointed this out, I added an inertial dampener, a locking mechanism for a specially designed boot to lock the feet in place to keep the rider on (with quick detach release if necessary, for emergencies), and a super magnet in the seat which gripped a corresponding magnet in the flight suit’s butt. The magnet basically kept you in the seat even if you went upside down or took a turn too hard.

“It’s good, much safer now,” she replied, looking over the changes. “Did you add a second seat and put in a second set of retractable foot pegs?”

“Yep! You can’t ride a badass Hog like this without a hot blonde hugging you from behind,” I snarked, wiggling my eyebrows.

“Is that all I am, ‘a hot blonde???’ she complained, though I could tell she was pleased by the compliment. “And what is a hog in this context? Is that more slang from your time?”

“Ah, yes, slang for a motorcycle,” I answered. “So, let’s do this!”

“Yes, I’ve got my PADD linked to your bike’s systems so I’ll be able to monitor your progress and let you know if there are any issues detected,” she said, getting her PADD out and running some system checks. “If I call for an abort of the test, you return to the ground, agreed?”

“Agreed.” I was just fine with that. Any issues could be fixed on the ground or back at my workshop, but I was confident it would be ok.

Taking a moment to look over the bike one final time, I thought the bike looked pretty badass even just sitting on the white, salt covered ground. Walking up to it, I gripped the handlebar and lithely threw my leg over the side, locking my boots in the pegs a moment later. Annika watched on from a few hundred feet away, PADD in hand.

“Beginning ignition now,” I said, knowing she’d hear me over our communication link.

There was no roar, like a jet plane starting up, but an electronic hum got louder and louder as air was displaced a bit and the bike came to a hover, rising in the air to about five feet above the ground.

“All systems are green,” Annika reported dutifully.

“Commencing flight.”

Toggling the propulsion, I slowly and gradually increased speed, flying/hovering over the white salt flats at 30 then 40 then 50 then 100 miles per hour. This was my bike and I was an American, so the bike’s display, built in between the handlebars, had a speed indicator that could be set to MPH.

The terrain was moving by me quickly now; I was doing a freaking 100 mph! And yet the area didn’t look blurred to me. The Human visual systems could process 10 to 12 images per second and perceive them individually, while higher rates were perceived as motion. It was this rate of visual perception that allowed modern video/movies/television to exist, essentially faking motion instead of just displaying a series of images at high speed. A modern television in my time could display video at roughly 60 frames per second, I had learned that while shopping for my last HD television. Now, though, I obviously was not visually perceiving my surroundings at a standard 10 to 12 images per second. In fact, I don’t think Dr. Crusher had noted anything about this in her report.

“All systems are green,” Annika reported.

“Attempting a few turning maneuvers now,” I reported, before pulling on my right handlebar slightly. Each handlebar, while separate from each other, was like a joy stick, though sitting parallel to the ground. They could be pushed forward, pulled towards me, pulled right, and left, all to change the orientation of the bike. Each movement triggered different power distributions in the thruster nozzles and reaction control thrusters on the bike. It kind of reminded me of the two hand controls on a zero turn lawnmower, with differences obviously in the sense that in the air you needed to think 3-dimensionally.

The bike handled my right turn smoothly. With the aerodynamic shielding and inertial dampener set to normal I could barely feel anything, not even the wind on my face, even though I was cruising at 100mph.

“All systems are green,” Annika reported. “5 percent power usage.”

“Confirm: I’m only using 5 percent power?” I asked.

“Confirmed: 5 percent power,” she responded, quickly and efficiently. Obviously falling back on old habits from her time onboard her parents’ ship when it came to reporting mission critical information.

That was interesting. It was a toss up which system was the biggest power hog on the bike, the shields or the engine. Both systems ramped up in power as they were put under strain.

“Reducing shield strength and inertial dampeners by 5%,” I reported. Flight at these speeds without any of the feel of flight was no fun.

Reducing both systems power I started to feel something, a bit more air, a bit more of the feel of high speed turning. At 75%, though, things were fun. I was flying at 100 mph, though I probably wouldn’t toggle it down any lower without more time on the bike.

“Gradually ramping up speed,” I reported, before taking the bike to 150 then 170 then 200 then 230 then 300, 400, 500, 700, before leveling off at 1,000 mph, over the course of 5 minutes, turning the bike around when I got too far from Annika. The salt flats were only 12 miles long, but were 5 miles wide, but luckily Utah remained a sparsely populated state even in the 24th century and I obviously didn’t need to travel on the ground.

“All systems are green,” Annika reported. “Are you at max speed?” she asked.

“Negative, negative at max speed,” I reported. This was exciting, but _fucking scary_! During my ramp up I had turned the shielding and inertial dampeners back to maximum. In space a thousand miles per hour was nothing and felt like nothing, you didn’t have to deal with air resistance or see the surroundings blur to incomprehensibility, but in atmosphere it was scary! The shielding negated the air flow, and maybe it was mental, but it was still scary. A thousand miles per hour meant you were traveling 10 miles every 36 seconds.

“I’m taking her up,” I reported, girding my loins for this trip up to the edge of the atmosphere, before deciding I didn’t want to take this final step alone.

“Annika, I want you with me when we leave atmosphere, will you join me?” I asked.

“I-I’d love to, Gothic,” she said over the comm link, sounding pleased that I wanted her to be with me for this experience she knew I’d been looking forward to.

**XXXXX**

I pulled up hard on the handlebars, my speed climbing quickly to about 5,000 miles per hour, Annika’s squeals of excitement in my ear, which, in my opinion, was the perfect soundtrack for this trip.

At 5,000 miles per hour we were going about 2.5x the fastest fighter jet from my time, but that was a pittance compared to the speeds a true shuttle could travel at impulse, at least in space, but an ion propulsion engine, capable of fitting on something the size of a bike, was not going to reach the speeds of a true shuttle. In terms that would be understood from my world, my bike was like an attack helicopter, while the shuttle was like a fighter jet. In atmosphere, with the ability to come to a stop and hover, I’d take my bike every time. Wargames from my time had proven that over and over again. The attack helicopter beat the fighter jets nearly every time.

Escape velocity was a little over 25,000 miles per hour, the needed velocity decreasing the higher you were from the ground, since gravity’s pull decreased with altitude. When you were manipulating gravity already, as my bike did to hover, the needed velocity was even lower. The shortest distance from the ground to space is about 62 miles straight up. I wasn’t going straight up, but covering 62 miles took about 45 seconds at 5000 mph. For me, it took over a minute to reach space before slowing my speed by reversing my thrust.

As I came to a stop, it was as if time stood still, and I was flooded with both emotion and awareness. I was stunned by the Earth’s beauty, and all those quotes I’d heard from astronauts in my time, upon seeing Earth for the first time from space, suddenly made sense. They all described a cognitive shift in awareness after seeing the planet ‘hanging in the void.’ They called it the ‘overview effect’, when you became totally overwhelmed and awed by the fragility and unity of life on our blue globe. It’s an uncanny sense of the ‘big picture’ and of feeling connected to and yet bigger than the intricate processes on Earth. This feeling might seem strange to the people born in this time, who could travel between worlds so easily, much less reach space, but it still affected me powerfully, even though I had seen the planet onboard the _Enterprise_ when we arrived.

Right now, I sat on a bike, with nothing between me and space but a flight suit and a transparent shield. I felt Annika squeeze my middle, not saying a word.

“I’m glad I could share this with you,” I offered softly squeezing her hands around my waist, my words being carried over an active comm link.

“Me too,” she replied back, just as softly. “I spent a good part of my life in space, yet this might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

We spent several minutes in silence, our eyes fixed on the Earth below us, before we were interrupted.

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.

A human face now appearing in the display built into the center console of my bike.

“Private Hovercruiser, this is the Federation starship, USS _Ohio_ , do you require assistance?” I heard from the communication system built into my head piece. Turning around from the sight of Earth, I looked up and found a huge starship hanging in space, visible to the naked eye, practically right on top of us. That was quite a sight.

“Negative, _Ohio_ , we are just taking in the view. Hope you can understand. It’s rather breathtaking,” I responded, eyes fixed on the ship practically right on top of us.

“It certainly is. We often take that for granted,” the unnamed captain said. “If you do not require assistance, we’ll be on our way. Enjoy the view. _Ohio_ out.”

With that the massive starship turned away and proceeded back to its patrol. It was quite a sight in its own right.

“Well, I think that’s enough excitement for now. I think we can declare this a successful test, wouldn’t you?” I said to Annika.

“Let’s get back to the ground safely first, _then_ declare this a successful test, Gothic,” she snarked back, squeezing me again.

“As always, the voice of reason and rationality, my dear.”

**XXXXX**

**Bay Harbor Arms Apartments** **.** **San Francisco. Earth.**

**Present Day**

**10 months since arrival on Earth. Day after achieving his Class-1 Pilot’s License**

I was woken up in the middle of the night by an annoying beeping sound. As an Augment I didn’t need much sleep, and often slept only two hours a night. Why sleep when my body didn’t need it and there were so many better things to do, like learning valuable skills that could save my life? But I’ll tell you one thing, when I was sleeping, I was no different from any other dude in that I didn’t want it to be interrupted.

"Yes, what is it?" I asked sharply, trying to rub the sleep out of my eyes, once I was in front of the large communications screen built into one of the glass walls of my apartment.

Given the late hour, it had to be something important that just couldn’t wait. If it wasn't then someone would pay dearly because I'd just been forced to climb out of a bed that had a very naked and smoking hot Seven of Nine in it, well, sort of.

"Sir, this Earth Spacedock control, your ship has arrived," a voice informed me.

While I could have activated the visual of the person calling, I hadn’t this time, since I was currently rather nude. According to Data’s Earth/Federation/24th century culture lessons from back when I was still on the _Enterprise_ , it was perfectly acceptable to choose to use voice-only when accepting a communication, especially if the timing of the call was unusual.

"What ship? I didn't book passage on a ship," I said, pretty confused. My Augment mind didn’t let me forget anything these days, so I certainly hadn’t forgotten something like that. From the moment I’d woken up in sickbay onboard the _Enterprise_ , it was like I had an ultra-high definition recording of every moment of my life since. And not just image and sound, thoughts, smells, touch, impressions too, everything. That did lead to moments of intense internal reverie that stretched on for much longer than was usual at times, but I was getting that under control.

And right now, I didn't want to go anywhere except back to either sleep or waking Annika up to tap that fine, fine ass again. By round 3 of Augment-level sex last night she was pretty much totally out of it and was acting like a very content and overly large kitten, totally non-verbal and almost animalistic insofar as instincts seemed to be the only thing driving her at that point. I really might have overdone it celebrating after I had achieved my class-1 pilot’s license. And that was after a couple rounds of sex with my instructor in the shuttle on the way back to Earth.

Now that she’d gotten a bit of sleep, I suspected Annika would be up for another round, assuming I hadn’t fucked her comatose.

"No, you misunderstand, sir," the voice explained. "The ship _belongs to you_. It's undergone inspection and has been cleared for delivery to you.”

I was still confused.

"Wait, are you telling me someone sent me a starship?" I asked, genuinely confused. "Who?"

There was a long delay before I got a reply.

"The records don't say, actually," he said, but not sounding overly concerned either. "It's not from Mars, but everything seems to be aboveboard, the inspection passed without issue. I guess someone with a lot of influence and resources likes you.”

How ironic that on the same day I receive my class-1 pilot’s license, that I receive a starship out of the blue, one that, _somehow_ , the folks in Starfleet don’t seem concerned about. Seriously, an unknown party sends a starship to an Augment like me and they don’t seem concerned? They hadn’t even identified who built the ship or described it beyond calling it a ‘ship’ or ‘the ship’, which suggested it wasn’t known either. It was all so uncharacteristically vague.

For some reason I had a feeling that some ultra-powerful being would find me more entertaining if I had a ship of my own, _now_ , rather than later. Wait…where did that thought come from? Sure, I had always wanted my own ship and much of the intense training I’d undertaken had been in pursuit of that ultimate goal, but I didn’t think it would happen for a good long while yet.

I had to find out more, because suddenly the whole galaxy was my playground and my plans for the future were suddenly happening much sooner than I had ever anticipated. That presented some potential for heartache, given how close I’d gotten to Annika over the last ten months.

"Is it currently at the Spacedock?" I inquired, once my inner monologue had ended. The mind of an Augment was always moving at warp 9, resulting in long moments of introspection. I was quickly supplied with all the information I needed, and a whole lot more that I didn't.

"I'll-I’ll be there soon," I told the person up in orbit, eager to see my new ship, but also not looking forward to the conversation I needed to have with Annika.

Should I wake her up and tell her that I was heading back into space? I had no intention of leaving without letting her that I was going, that would be a seriously dick move and she didn’t deserve that. She been nothing but supportive when it came to all my ambitions, but this might be a bridge too far.

I was honestly torn. I’d kept things with her unofficial and open, but she’d still wormed her way into my heart. Was that enough to give up my dreams of adventure? Would being together change the fact that war was coming to this quadrant?

I had my answer, but this was still **going to suck.**

**XXXXX**

**Author’s Note:**

**Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I did, as it was a joy for me to write! If you want to support my writing and get exclusive pre-release access to the next two fully complete chapters of the story, chapters already written and proofed, consider becoming a Patron of this work. :-) You also get access to the pictures, information sources, music, and videos that inspired me during the writing process. A picture is worth a thousand words, so check out what was in my mind’s eye while writing.**

**To Become a Patron Visit: pat reon dot com /Joe_Lawyer**

[i] See Memory Alpha entry for “Life Support Belt”: The life support belt was a [device](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Life_support_gear) worn around the waist that emitted a [personal](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Personal_force_field) [force field](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Force_field) which supplied the wearer with the appropriate [atmosphere](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Atmosphere) and protected them from the elements. Life support belts were used by [Starfleet personnel](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Starfleet_personnel_\(23rd_century\)) in the late [2260s](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/2260s) and the early [2270s](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/2270s) aboard the [USS Enterprise](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/USS_Enterprise_\(NCC-1701\)). ([Star Trek: The Animated Series](https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/Star_Trek:_The_Animated_Series)).


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to or part of Star Trek. This fan fiction was written purely for fun.

**The Adventures of Augment Gothic**

“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.” ― Kahlil Gibran

“When you loved someone and had to let them go, there will always be that small part of yourself that whispers, "What was it that you wanted and why didn't you fight for it?” ― Shannon L. Alder

**Chapter 8 – Adventure Requires Sacrifice**

**Bay Harbor Arms Apartments** **.** **San Francisco. Earth.**

**Present Day**

I had really done a number on Annika last night during our celebration, I thought, as I gazed forlornly on Annika’s sleeping form. She was currently lying diagonally across my bed, naked, on her stomach, her large D-cup breasts pressed into the mattress. Her hands were on top of my pillow, blonde hair fanned out, ass practically up in the air, a remnant from our last bout of vigorous love making, and somehow her legs were bent and up, like even in her sleep she was signaling she had reached her limit.

She looked gorgeous, as always, which was only part of the reason why I was absentmindedly running my hand down her back, from shoulder to delectable rump, like I was trying to memorize her delicious form with just my fingertips. I thought about pulling the covers up over her, but I really wanted to burn this image in my mind. It might be the last time I saw this.

Sigh…looking at Annika right now brought a lot of mixed feelings. I had just learned a few hours ago that I had been sent a starship. The galaxy was now mine to explore. Obtaining a ship of my own had been the ultimate goal, something that could have realistically taken me years on my own. It’s what had motivated me to stuff probably a decade’s worth of training into a span of only 10 months. Computer architecture and programming, weapons and tactics, starship operations, starship engineering, and piloting, all of it was to learn everything I would need to one day captain a ship of my own and explore this galaxy, to go on adventures, just like in the shows about this dimension that I had once watched. Because of my patron or likely someone equally as powerful, that day had arrived years early. Ignoring this gift for too long had perils of its own; Gods were capricious like that.

_So, why the fuck was I feeling so unsure?_

Of course, I knew why. The reason why was lying on my bed right now. The reason why was the woman I had come to really care about over the past 10 months, who was smart, and sexy, and fun, and obviously cared about me.

I had learned about this ship hours ago and I had spent the time since just watching Annika sleep. The sun was already rising, the room brightening considerably, which meant the time for that conversation I was dreading was fast approaching.

On cue, she started stirring, her eyes slowly opening, my touch obviously causing her to rouse.

“Mmmm, Gothic, what are you doing?” she asked, smiling the kind of smile you give your lover after a night of passion followed by a wonderful sleep.

“Just watching you,” I answered honestly.

“Come lay with me. I want you to hold me,” she begged.

I was so very tempted to just say ‘fuck it’ and get back in bed with her and forget about the news from last night, but I knew I couldn’t.

“I received some news last night. I might be leaving Earth for a while,” I said, deciding to just pull this bandage off in one go.

Her eyes opened wider at that, now watching me closely, more awake now.

“What news did you get and why would that mean you’re leaving Earth ‘for a while’,” she asked.

“Somebody sent me a starship, I guess as a gift. Earth Spacedock commed last night to tell me it’d arrived and passed inspection,” I answered.

She looked down now, not meeting my eyes.

“I see. That’s great news; I know you’ve always wanted a ship of your own. You’ve worked so hard to be ready for that,” she replied softly, still not meeting my eyes. “When will you be leaving, and when will you be coming back?”

It seems that whatever power or magic or Godly bullshit that was keeping Starfleet from asking questions was affecting Annika too. I can’t imagine her not asking about someone just gifting me a starship.

“As soon as I can get everything ready. And I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

It was silent for a while after that, both of us lost in our thoughts.

“Annika, when I arrived on Earth I wanted nothing more than to get back out into space, to captain my own ship, to be the master of my own destiny. That was my dream. I never anticipated coming to care for anyone so much that I might want to give up that dream.”

“I would never ask you to,” she responded fervently.

“I know, and that’s something I love about you,” I said. “I know we’ve kept things casual, never made commitments to each other, but what do you think about coming with me? I’m sure you’d make a wonderful first officer!”

She looked even more sad now.

“Gothic- I- I spent a good portion of my life on a starship with my parents, traveling all over the quadrant and into the adjacent one,” she spoke softly. “I’ve had my fill of travel and adventure. I just don’t think I have it in me anymore.”

And I knew that, she had told me that many times before.

“I know, Annika, but I needed to make the offer,” I said. “To let you know how much I care for you that I wanted to go on this adventure together, with you. It’s an open offer. If you ever change your mind, you’ll have a place by my side.”

We sat together in silence again, both not looking at the other.

“Where does that leave us?” I asked her.

She exhaled, shakily, but turned to me, took my hands in her own and looked me right in the eyes.

“It leaves us with fond memories of each other, a magical 10 months that I know I’ll never forget. Gothic, I, I want you to go on those adventures. To see the wonders this time and galaxy have to offer. And if you ever return to Earth, I hope you’ll look me up, ok?” she answered, in a shaky voice, but giving me a brittle smile.

She gave me one last kiss, before picking up her clothes, leaving the bedroom, and walking out the door of my apartment…and my life.

For the _first_ time in this new life I _cursed_ being made an Augment _._ If I hadn’t been made one, I wouldn’t have been able to hear her breaking down into sobs in the hallway.

**XXXXX**

**Gothic's Ship. On Route to the Planet Risa.**

Looking at my ship from the outside, which as yet had no name, I had to fight the urge to facepalm, _hard._ If I was uncertain before whether this ship was the gift of a God-like being seeking more entertainment from me, any doubt was well and truly gone. I recognized the design, and it was one that had no place in this universe, one that would only be recognizable to me, a dimensional traveler.

_It was a ship from the fucking Star Wars universe!!_ Talk about out of context.

Seriously, I think I was being trolled, though I couldn’t exactly complain, I was being gifted a ship after all.

I had never been as big a fan of Star Wars as I was Star Trek, but I had seen all the movies and even read some fan created stories set in that universe. I had even looked up a ship once on the Wookiepedia after reading a story which featured this very ship and had thought, ‘damn, that is a handsome ship’ at the time. It was a freaking Marauder-class Corvette! Well, kind of.

Becoming an Augment meant I had an eidetic memory, but the memories of my life pre-change were foggy at best as they were made with normal human senses and stored in a normal brain’s memory. With a good bit of effort, though, I could remember a great deal from my old life, including details about this ship. The Marauder-class Corvette in Star Wars was a 195-meter-long light capital ship introduced prior to the clone wars, sometimes called a ‘pocket cruiser’, with space for 12 starfighters and 80 troops.

If I had to describe it, I would say it was like a large snake with wings, in the color scheme that was standard for this class of ship in the Star Wars universe, grey with a red racing stripe that went from bow to stern. The cockpit of the ship would be the snake’s larger, flared head, with a flat straight nose. Connected to the head of the snake/cockpit, led to a long shaft, the body of the snake, which connected the wings to the rest of the ship, which had an over-large ion impulse engine and oversized exhaust aperture at the end of the shaft. Most of the large weapons were built into the wing portion of the ship.

The ship in front of me had been nerfed quite a bit from its Star Wars origins by being shrunken down to less than a quarter of its normal size and adapted to better fit in with the Star Trek universe’s technology base, though it did look mostly the same visually. According to my tricorder, it was 45 meters long, and 15 meters tall, with an impressive wingspan, which held most of its weapons. It was not a capital ship by any means, more of a super runabout really, but definitely larger than a standard Runabout. The Danube-class Runabout, from Deep Space 9 fame, which wouldn’t even be commissioned for use till next year (in 2369), was only 23.1 meters long and 5.4 meters tall.

The standard Star Wars design, not the missile cruiser variant, though this ship did look more like the missile cruiser variant, came standard with 8 double turbolaser canons for weapons. As that technology didn’t exist in this universe, those weapons appeared to have been replaced by Klingon-style disrupter canons like you’d see on a Bird of Prey, two fore, two aft, two port, and two starboard. The ones on the wing, though, were not the overlarge version of that weapon that reached past the midpoint of the ship really. And the shuttle/fighter launch bay, which had sat directly below the cockpit in the ‘snake’s head’ was more akin to a smallish cargo bay now, which would barely be able to fit one small shuttle at most. My bike, though, and a decent amount of cargo, would easily fit, thankfully. It had a loading/boarding ramp to this cargo space, which could lower, almost like the snake’s mouth opening, where you’d enter the ship and load cargo. Two smaller storage bays were at the rear of the ship, to either side of the large ion impulse engine. Each had its own door which opened at the rear for easy loading, thankfully.

Unfortunately, unlike the Star Wars version, there were no tractor beam projectors, something I would have to add when given the chance.

What was definitely not standard for the design were the two warp nacelles tucked directly under the ship, in the wing section, on either side of the large ion impulse engine. There was no such thing as ‘hyperdrive’ in the Star Trek universe, so warp drive was a necessity for interstellar distances, which my mysterious benefactor had obviously taken into account.

Its impulse drive was at the rear of the craft, in that large engine style of the Star Wars universe. For a _smallish_ ship of lower mass, this gave my ship an incredible amount of thrust while at sublight speeds.

That much higher than normal sublight speed, combined with the vessel's maneuverability, meant that in a ship-to-ship engagement, where everything else was close to equal, I'd have a serious advantage. Should I face a craft that totally outclassed mine, well, I should have enough speed to run away and/or enough maneuverability to make getting hit by targeted weapons' fire very, very difficult. Even its warp drive was more powerful than that of a standard runabout.

It was a handsome ship, exotic in some ways, but not so exotic as to arouse a lot of interest. It was also pretty small compared to even the smallest capital ships around, the size of a small courier/transport ship or super shuttle, which would hopefully lead people to underestimate it and view it as non-threatening. Despite its small size, though, it was actually far better armed, more maneuverable, and had a warp core that was almost too much for a ship its size.

While my ship's true origins were still a mystery (even though I had my suspicions) no one other than myself seemed all that interested in solving it, which for Starfleet was _incredibly_ strange. Those guys never saw a mystery, no matter how dangerous, that they didn't want to poke and prod at with a stick till it blew up in their collective faces, usually resulting in the death of a red shirt nobody. Annika hadn’t even asked when told about it, acting as if it wasn’t patently ridiculous and super suspicious that some unknown party would have sent me a ship out of the blue.

If I was prone to conspiracies, which I suppose I was considering the strange circumstances I found myself in, it was almost like the ship was shrouded in a ‘notice-me-not’ or ‘nothing-important-here’ field from various fantasy and science fiction stories. Sure, the ship was completely legal for me to own, despite being armed with decently powerful weapons, like those that could be found on an obsolete model Klingon Bird of Prey, but given that no one knew where it had come from, you'd think it would have been carefully investigated.

Yet no one at Earth Spacedock seemed to care! Which, admittedly, was good for me. Owning a ship of my own was the ultimate freedom. It had been a dream of mine long before I’d even arrived in this dimension.

Perhaps it was due to the size of the craft?? It was a little less than twice the size of a runabout, small enough to potentially even fit in the main shuttle bay of some of the larger Federation ships, but it was large enough to have a cargo bay that could hold a fair amount of supplies/containers, well, as long as everything was stored efficiently.

Perhaps 'cargo bay' was being a bit too generous to describe the space, really it was more like a glorified large storage room with a ramp. Undoubtedly useful, though. It also had a permanent bedroom for the captain/pilot in the shaft of the ship, between the cockpit and the rear wing section. I wasn't entirely sure if the Starfleet runabout actually had one of those. The runabouts we saw frequently in DS9 didn't quite match up to the one time we saw a Runabout in TNG, so maybe there were variants for long-distance travel or different mission types. I had to constantly remind myself that the shows only gave us a tiny glimpse into that universe.

**XXXXX**

Before I had even left Earth Spacedock, I had scanned my new ship from bow to stern. I had examined every inch of its hull and interior, with both tricorder and eyes. Opened up every panel, looked in every wall, crawled in every crawlway, and had taken apart every piece of technology I could safely take apart. I had even turned off main power and pulled out the dilithium crystals in the warp core to take a look. My engineering courses, with its focus on Starship engineering, had been particularly useful for all this.

I had also delved deeply into the computer systems onboard, running every security check I could think of looking for anything that I wouldn’t like.

_Everything was clean._

Thankfully, it wasn’t running a Federation operating system. It was alien in origin, but not incomprehensible.

The ship was practically brand new, new car smell and all, and in perfect working order, like it had just flown out of a freaking shipyard. There were no hidden surprises in the programming either, or surveillance devices placed by a paranoid Section 31. That had thrown me for a loop considering how it had mysteriously arrived and there had been ample time to plant them while it sat undefended in a facility controlled by the Federation.

I wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth, but unlike Starfleet I did care about where this vessel had come from; whatever might be affecting them was unable to alleviate my suspicions or maybe I’d been purposely excluded since I was the recipient of the gift.

Though alien, there was nothing even in the ship's computer that could shed light on its origins. Assuming an ultrapowerful being, like a Q, didn’t just snap his fingers and make a starship appear out of thin air, it _could_ have been built somewhere within the Federation, possibly, even though it had disruptors for weapons and was a design straight out of the Star Wars universe. Even the ship’s warp core was a standard design used by most Federation worlds in their starships. There was nothing exotic about it at all, which, admittedly, was dead useful for me as I had trained extensively with Federation warp technology.

The warp engines of my ship were fueled by the reaction of matter (deuterium) and antimatter (anti-deuterium), that were mediated through an assembly of dilithium crystals, which were nonreactive with antimatter when subjected to high-frequency electromagnetic fields. This was the _same_ as any other Federation starship, the only notable difference being the size of the warp core relative to the overall size of the ship, and thus the amount of power it could produce. For its size, my ship was overpowered. It was also fast, heavily armed, and pretty well shielded for its size, but it didn't require much energy to operate when compared to a ship the size of something like the _Enterprise_.

Also, my vessel, like all Federation starships, was equipped with Bussard collectors, which were optimally positioned to collect interstellar particles to use as fuel. Collection worked best in regions where particle density was high, such as in star systems or nebulae. The Bussard collector normally collected hydrogen, especially deuterium, for fuel replenishment, but could be reconfigured to collect various gases like sirillium and plasma particles. A Bussard collector could also be reconfigured to expel gases or plasma.

It did use disrupters instead of phasers, like on most Starfleet ships, but many Federation starships used disrupters. The Federation manufactured that technology. The ship’s shields were pretty standard too. As I had recently learned in my studies of this time’s technology, the deflector shields operated by creating a layer, or layers, of energetic distortion containing a high concentration of gravitons around the object to be protected. On starships, even ones as small as mine, the shield had six sections, forward, starboard, port, aft, dorsal, and ventral. Shield energies could be emitted from a localized antenna or dishes, such as a ship's navigational deflector, or from a network of emitters laid out on the starship's hull.

Neither matter, nor highly concentrated energy, could normally penetrate a shield. When shields were energized at a high level, most matter or energy that came into contact with the shields was harmlessly deflected away. This was important in starship combat, as shields were essential for hull protection. When the shields were up, only minor hull damage would be expected during combat. In the 23rd and 24th century, without deflector shields, weapons were capable of causing catastrophic damage to starship hulls almost immediately. Hull armor meant very little, at least not these days, though in the future that might change. I had vague memories of the Defiant possessing some advanced form of ablative hull armor, so there must have been some advances in that old technology once the Federation put its mind to it.

What was _different_ about my ship from both Star Wars and Star Trek tech, was its stealth system. My vessel couldn't cloak, not by any means, but it could _hide_ itself very well from long range sensors. That was a _huge_ advantage. Short range scanners were something it _couldn't_ fool, though, as Starfleet ships had many sophisticated ways of detecting things at that range. However, given the vastness of space, I would be able to avoid detection at long-range, for the most part. They'd literally have to be quite close by, in galactic terms, to even know I was there. This was yet another reason why I wondered why no one was looking into the origins of my ship.

The ship’s control systems were different too, but not so different as to require a great deal of time to figure out. In my opinion they were a better design and layout than standard Federation controls. It was very easy to pilot, what with its simple, intuitive controls and its built-in neural uplink, a device which allowed my brain to connect with the ship itself using a helmet-like device. This allowed me to control the ship with my mind alone if I wished to, with no need to even touch a control console. If there was a progression of starship control systems, it’d first begin with a standard console and the pushing of buttons, then it’d transition to a dynamic holographic control system, then neural control interfaces. In my humble opinion neural control was the future of starship control systems, but the question was, could standard humanoid physiology handle it?

This technology was known to the Federation, however few species could withstand having all that sensory input inside their heads, much less actually use the link to control something as large and complex as a starship. It caused a kind of sensory overload in humans that wasn't harmful per se, but it could cause intense dizziness and nausea with use. Even a half hour using the device meant intense migraines and potentially being rendered unconscious, and that was only at very low levels of input. Being an Augment with an enhanced brain and cognitive function, I didn't have to deal with these side effects, or they were mitigated by my superior physiology.

It had taken only half a day to resign from my position with the university and pack up my few belongings, including the Ferengi design computer, my weapons, and of course my hovercruiser. With a transporter it was easy to move larger items and equipment to Earth Spacedock.

My close examination of my new ship took the better of the next 3 days, working 20 hours per day. It all checked out. But what was needed now was a shakedown cruise, a decently long trip at warp to see how the ship performed in the field. A trip long enough for me to test all the systems and maybe actually do some design work without fear of surveillance.

After a few minutes of intense thought, I picked a world from the shows. Risa would be perfect. Yes, it was a dream of all Star Trek fans to visit the pleasure planet and drown themselves in endless alien pussy, but in this case it was perfect for more than just that. It was a planet far enough from Earth to be a good test cruise, but not so far as to be overly dangerous. It was also in the core of the Federation, meaning it was in very safe space with many Starfleet ships in the vicinity, with billions of visitors per year visiting the planet. Should I suffer an in-flight emergency while in route, there would be many ships in range to offer assistance.

Even beyond all these good and logical and rational reasons for a trip to Risa, I just needed a break. Plain and simple. For the last 10 months I’d worked myself to the bone trying to learn everything I could to not only survive in this new dimension, but to _thrive in it._ The sheer amount of information and skills I’d learned and practiced in this short span of time would have been impossible for a baseline human, but even if it hadn’t, they’d probably have suffered a nervous breakdown long ago.

So, yeah, I needed a fucking vacation, something to allow me to decompress and get my mind off the memory of Annika sobbing in the hallway.

Wait, wait, how far was Risa from Earth? It was embarrassing to realize I wasn’t actually sure.

“Computer, what is the distance from Earth to the planet Risa?” I asked.

It really hadn’t come up in all my studies thus far. If that had ever been stated in a show, I didn’t remember. The writers of Star Trek were always reluctant to provide information like that, and when they did, it sometimes wildly contradicted another series, and sometimes even a different season within the same damn show.

“The distance from Earth to the Federation planet, Risa, is approximately 90 light years[i],” the computer answered in a male voice. That would have to go.

“Fuck me. 90 light years?” I asked incredulously.

“Computer, how long would it take to reach Risa at this ship’s maximum warp speed?” I asked.

“At warp 6, assuming optimum conditions, 83.75 days[ii],” it answered.

“84 days?? Seriously?” I scoffed aloud, leaning back in my chair in the cockpit, eyes now gazing at the ceiling. Optimum conditions probably meant traveling at warp 6 that entire time without interruption. I had assumed a few weeks at most. That was considerably more time than I had imagined. But, still, I had no end of projects I could work on.

“Just out of curiosity, what is the travel time at warp 7?” I asked. “Answer succinctly.”

“50.1 days.”

“And at warp 8?”

“32.1 days.”

“Warp 9?”

“21.68 days.”

“Warp 9.5?” I asked, now even more curious.

“17.35 days.”

_‘Dude, I need a faster ship_ ,’ I thought forlornly. Interstellar distances were no joke.

84 fucking days meant I had nowhere near the amount of food and water needed for such a long journey, not with the way I fucking ate. My new ship, while awesome in a lot of ways, didn’t have a replicator for some reason. Maybe that was in line with its Star War origins?

As far as I could tell, every system that had been present in the original Star Wars design had been converted to its Star Trek equivalent technology, the hyperdrive engine became warp drive, the turbolasers became disrupter canons, etc. The tractor beam projectors hadn’t been transitioned to this universe, but there might be some fundamental difference between the two technologies that I was unaware of. Replicator technology didn’t exist in the Star Wars universe, nor did transporter tech, so therefore it hadn’t been part of the Marauder-class Corvette design and thus my ship lacked both those systems. That was as good a guess as any, I supposed.

I had considered buying a replicator before but considered it an unneeded extravagance at the time. Replicators were fucking expensive and my funds were limited. On an 84-day journey at high warp, though, it changed from an extravagance to an outright necessity. With my daily caloric needs, I’d need so much water and emergency rations that it might be too much for my cargo areas. Guess I had to bite the bullet.

Cringing at the hit my bank account was about to take, I realized that I might have a way to lessen the impact. My fingers danced over the console as I opened a communication channel from inside the cockpit, a few seconds later a middle Eastern looking man appeared on the screen of one of the display panels.

“Gothic, my friend! How have you been?” Azad, the owner of Curious Curios asked, rather happily. He obviously recognized the value of a good repeat customer. “I have not seen you for months! How did the hovercruiser turn out?”

Azad had been a great help in supplying with me with the various bits and pieces of technology I’d needed to upgrade my bike, amongst other things. He had come through big time in sourcing a personal shield device for me, especially considering just how valuable and rare such technology was. I thanked God and my patron that the average Federation citizen was woefully ignorant of just how much they could save by buying on the secondary market. In other words, used goods. I was just fine with them remaining ignorant as it meant more for me and at better prices.

“The bike turned out amazing. I did a speed test in Utah and it performed like a champ,” I answered with a smile, fondly remembering the speed and how cute it was when Annika was clutching me so tightly in fear. I think a baseline human’s ribs would have broken. Well, that certainly put a damper on my mood, my smile now fading. “But that’s not why I’m calling, I recently acquired a starship and I’m in the market for a couple of replicators.”

“A starship! Well, you have certainly moved up in the world, my friend. Azad can provide,” he said earnestly. “What type are you looking for?”

“A personal food replicator and a small class-1 industrial replicator to produce small to medium-sized engineering items, parts, and tools. Both would need to be designed and intended for a starship installation, high-end, customizable,” I explained. Which meant it was designed to become an integrated system onboard a starship and be powered by a plasma power distribution network, versus the power systems you’d typically find on a planet.

My quarters/bedroom, had a small, but comfortable eating area that would seat 4 people (6 in a pinch), so I’d probably put the food replicator there. As for the industrial replicator, that would probably go in the engine room. A class 1-industrial replicator was actually the smallest replicator of that type. A class 4, though, was exponentially larger and in the shows was used to supply the needs on the scale of an entire planet. When the Federation committed in the shows to helping Bajor rebuild after the Occupation, the Federation had only given two class-4 industrial replicators to Bajor. There was an exponential level of difference in functionality, size, and range of replicable items even going from a class-1 to a class-2.

“Let me check my inventory, my friend, I’m sure I have something,” Azad said, looking off the side now, probably looking at a real time inventory database. “Ah ha! I have 139 personal food replicators, a mix of origins and ages, however, and 13 class-1 industrial replicators! All capable of being installed onboard a starship.”

Hmm…replicator technology was possessed by many different races in this area of galaxy, so there were a lot of different versions floating around. Federation replicators, however, were considered one of the very best in terms of the quality of the things it replicated and the ease by which it could be modified and upgraded. The Federation had built-in safeguards to prevent the replication of dangerous materials, but even if I had to jail-break mine, it would still be a better buy than another race’s. New Federation colonies were _notorious_ for jail breaking their replicators, which was technically illegal, to make them more useful, so I didn’t need to reinvent the wheel.

“Do you have any matched pairs?” I asked. “I would much rather the origin and technology match for ease of maintenance and parts, and preferably Federation.”

It would make it much easier to order parts, get software updates, and maintain them overall if I didn’t have two different technology bases. There were many ways to skin the proverbial cat and each race, while capable of achieving mostly similar results, had slightly different ways to accomplish the same thing.

“Very sensible, my friend, let me dig into the details a little more,” he replied, before going silent for a few minutes. “I have a matched set, personal replicator and class-1 industrial replicator. I purchased them from a Vulcan freighter that was decommissioned a few months ago. All the salvable technology was stripped from it and sold.”

“A Vulcan ship? Private registry or planetary government owned? And decommissioned, Azad?” I responded, rather dubiously. Azad hadn’t steered me wrong yet, so I’d give him the benefit of the doubt. “Just how old are we talking here?”

I was willing to buy old, used technology, but I had a brand new starship here and I wasn’t interested in taking the time to install replicators that were already obsolete or would need replacement or endless repairs to keep functioning after only a short period of hard use.

“Planetary government, nothing but the best for you! Gothic, my friend, I would never sell goods to you that weren’t appropriate and of the highest quality!” he reassured me. “My records indicate the freighter was old, but the replicators onboard were replaced two years ago in a refit. They’re practically brand new!”

Hmm. Two-year-old replicators was much more acceptable. Vulcan ships, from the shows and from my own studies, were known to be extremely well run operations and were very fastidious in their maintenance. Maybe even too conservative in their replacement and maintenance schedules according to some, but that was great for me. In this case, the freighter had been owned and operated by the Vulcan planetary government, which meant even more exacting standards than a privately owned freighter. These replicators were sounding better and better.

“You’ve convinced me, _my friend_ ,” I said, smiling now. From Azad’s shark-like smile he realized he had almost certainly made a sale. That smile somehow reminded me of home, and my time in the markets of Iraq and Afghanistan. “Let’s talk price.”

“Of course, of course, for you, my friend, I give you a very good price, 10 thousand for the industrial replicator and 5 thousand for the personal replicator. This is very good price!”

It actually was, but the forms needed to be observed.

“15 thousand?! Are you trying to rob me, Azad! 8 thousand, not a credit more!” I yelled in mock-outrage. This was just how things were done.

“8 thousand?! Do you wish to ruin me? I will be homeless at that price and my business, bankrupt!” Azad insisted. “13 thousand,” he counteroffered.

‘ _Homeless_??’ I scoffed internally. Azad really was old school to trot out that old chestnut, or he was tailoring his negotiation strategy for someone from my time. I had shared my story with him during one of my visits to his warehouse. No one was homeless in the 24th century Federation, much less on Earth, the capital of the Federation.

“For old goods that will sit in your warehouse for years before someone like me comes along who sees their value?! Were you smoking hashish before I called?! Do you think some new colony launch will buy from you, Azad? They’ll get their replicators brand new from the Federation for free! 10 thousand!”

“Do you wish the clothes off my back too?! You go too far! 11 thousand! My last offer, even for a friend like you, Gothic!” Azad huffed, looking off the side very melodramatically, arms crossed.

“Deal,” I accepted, laughing now, reaching out to metaphorically shake his hand to signal a bargain was reached. He did the same.

11 thousand was where I hoped to end up, pricewise, and was a substantial savings from the price of new replicators. Azad shook my hand a moment later. And just like that, like we had flicked a switch, we were both now smiling at a deal well struck.

“It is always a pleasure to do business with you, my friend, someone who respects the old ways,” Azad said, smiling widely.

“I see the value in your business, Azad, and greatly respect what you’re doing with it. If my needs match your offerings, you will always have a loyal customer in me,” I said. “And besides, I have a strong and fast ship now with space for cargo. If you have any shipping needs, I hope you’ll consider me for the work.”

Now that I had a ship with cargo space and a class-1 pilot’s license, I could take some paying jobs during my travel. My new stealth system and decently strong weapons meant my ship would be perfect for high-value cargo.

“I will remember, my friend. I assume you would like your replicators delivered to you?”

“Yes, and hold one moment,” I said, my fingers flying across the console. “I’ve transferred the agreed upon price, plus your standard delivery fee. Please transport them to berth 38 at Earth Spacedock.”

“I’ve received payment. They will be transported up to your ship within the hour,” Azad assured. “Safe travels, my friend!”

The communication cut out.

Well, now that I had dealt with the issue of food and water on this 84-day journey, there was no reason to dilly dally, I had a long journey ahead of me.

_Engage!_

**XXXXX**

Since the ship was cruising along on a steady course to Risa at warp six, there was really nothing for me to do, at least nothing truly _required_. Even after familiarizing myself with all the control systems, running a few piloting simulations, and then opening every panel on the ship that was safe to do so while at warp, I was still bored. Yes, I’d examined the ship thoroughly while at Earth Spacedock, but a ship traveling at warp, under its own power, well, that was a very different animal. Systems performed differently while under strain.

So far, according to every diagnostic I’d run, everything was working perfectly, even after 3 weeks of non-stop travel at warp 6, this ship’s maximum warp speed. I had already thought the ship may as well have had that new car smell, because it was behaving like it had just rolled off the assembly line. I guess only time would tell how it handled under the stress of combat and thousands of light years on the odometer.

As for being bored, well, I had spent the last 10 months at a metaphorical Warp 10. I might be on a much-needed vacation, but it was hard to turn off that need to be productive, you know? To fill every free moment with something that improved myself. The time limitations in a 42-minute episode of television really hid the fact that a lot of time on a starship was spent traveling from place to place at warp for days to weeks at a time. It was incredibly boring! Especially when you were by yourself.

In order to pass the time, I'd decided to read up on the planet I was traveling to. I'd already learned a lot about what the world had to offer in terms of entertainment, which was _a lot_ , but there was more to the place than clear seas, endless white sandy beaches, huge holiday resorts and truly over-the-top hedonism.

Risa, I’d learned, was the capital planet of the Risian Hedony, a Federation Member State, homeworld of the humanoid Risian species, and a well-known tourist planet. It was the second planet in orbit of Epsilon Ceti B in the Epsilon Ceti star system in the Risa sector of the Beta Quadrant.

The world relied on an incredibly sophisticated and mostly automated weather control net to make the stay of their guests as pleasurable as possible. Without the incredibly advanced weather control technology, Risa was a world ravaged by intense storms, and often disrupted by powerful earthquakes and tidal forces from its three orbiting moons. If those automated systems ever failed, Risa would be in great jeopardy.

In this day and age Risa was famous throughout the Alpha and Beta Quadrants as a place of tourism and recreation and was often referred to as a 'pleasure planet'. It got that reputation because of its constant, stable climate, its attractive landscapes, and most of all, its _very_ _friendly_ locals.

Its native species, who were _notorious_ for their incredibly open sexual mores, numbered approximately three billion, and the planet hosts about one billion tourists at any given time. This meant it was far less populated than Earth, and some of the other more settled, older Federation planets, most likely as a result of the planet's extreme weather and seismic instability during much of its history, prior to the creation of their weather control net. Hell, even their open sexual mores might be a result of their planet's normally extreme conditions over the ages. Life is too short and all that.

Many resorts on Risa also had elaborate gambling casinos, though there had been many more in the past, but since humans (and many other Federation planets) no longer used true money anymore, it was mostly the aliens who gambled, though you could find some humans who did. Riker was famous for being quite good at gambling.

Risa was first visited by Humans and Starfleet in 2152 when the _Enterprise_ (NX) had arrived at the planet and several crew members took shore leave there. Those crew members included Captain Jonathan Archer, Ensigns Hoshi Sato and Travis Mayweather, Commander Charles Tucker and Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, legends in their own right in this time.

Another legend, Captain Picard, had already or would soon visit this planet if I recalled episodes from the show. I couldn't find out the details, as they weren't part of any public record, though hopefully I wouldn't run into him. Things had been mighty strained and awkward between us after he found out that I was boning his long-time crush/love to within an inch of her life.

**XXXXX**

A map of my course to Risa, a three-dimensional space, rendered on a two-dimensional console display. What a fucking joke. This was an age of advanced holography, why would they need to do it this way?? Even a static holographic display of the space that I couldn’t manipulate by hand would be superior to this bullshit.

Ah well, commenting on the stupidity of the Federation and more broadly on the use (or non-use) of advanced technology in this time for practical purposes was not my intent. I was actually closely examining an asteroid field that was only a tenth of a lightyear off my projected course to Risa. Thankfully, this being the heart of the Federation core, the entire area, including this asteroid field, had been extensively mapped. According to the computer this little detour would only take 2.16 hours to reach.

According to the star charts, these asteroids were primarily M-types, meaning metallic, made up of nickel-iron, and a minority were S-types, or stony, made up of silicate materials and nickel-iron. In this age of replication, with no exotic materials to be found, there was zero interest in mining these asteroids, which made it perfect for me to test my ship’s weapons.

“Computer, power up all weapons and shields,” I commanded aloud.

Of course, I could have done this via the control console, but after nearly a month of solitude, I was eager to speak to someone/anything, even if it was just the computer.

“Shields and weapons have been activated,” the computer responded.

I used my pilot training to great effect by maneuvering deftly through the asteroid field, though great skill wasn’t exactly required. The asteroids were spread apart a great deal, so there was plenty of space to maneuver a ship my size. In fact, I purposely flew closer to the various asteroids to up the difficulty rating of these maneuvers. It also made the view out of my cockpit window so much more exciting than an endless starfield flying by at warp. In the endless black of space, some visual markers that you were traveling at incredible speeds made the journey so much more fulfilling.

I was heading toward one of the larger asteroids in the field, hoping to test the destructive potential of my weapons. Space was vast, so this 10-mile-long oblong shaped metallic asteroid didn’t look all that big in my cockpit’s window at the moment, but it quickly grew to look pretty damn big.

Coming to a full stop I admired its craggy surface, pitted and scarred by collisions with other asteroids over the eons. I planned to make some new pits and scars momentarily.

An interesting design quirk of this ship was the hidden nature of the ship’s weapons located fore and aft. These were located in hidden recessed compartments on the top of the ship, which protected them when not in use and made the ship appear less visibly threatening. The twin-linked disrupter canons could be powered up even while recessed, but firing would require the compartment to open and the canons to be raised. Once raised, like all the disrupter canons on the ship, they could move to track targets, each battery capable of firing on their own unique targets, or all on one target, in rapid fire pulse, one after the other, or simultaneously for greater shield penetration.

The fore canons were located directly above the snake’s head, as it were, above the cockpit. The aft canons were located near the very rear of the ship, above the engine room. The port and starboard canons, were out and visible, located under the wings, near the middle of them.

Targeting the center mass of the asteroid with only the fore canons, they quickly raised from its hidden compartment above the cockpit, moved to track the target, and were fired at full power. Two bright white pulses, a single burst from both canons, flew fast and true to strike the center of the asteroid, a small cloud of debris rising up and floating away from the main body, leaving a very respectable crater of destruction several hundred feet across.

Analyzing the sensor readings, I was impressed. Of course, this was an unshielded target that wasn’t fighting back, but a crater this size… A 10,000 pound bomb dropped from a plane back in my time probably wouldn’t make a crater this big and I made it with the weapons on what was essentially a super-Runabout. A ship that I now owned and controlled. It suddenly struck me just how much destructive potential my little ship had and it filled me with some trepidation. It was the same feeling I had had when learning to fire my rifle in basic training. It was a great responsibility to wield weapons that could take lives so easily.

Switching to rapid fire mode, I fired. White pulses of energy rapidly fired from each canon barrel, staggered because of the great power demands, streaked towards the crater I had just created. The hole I was digging with my ship’s weapons deepened with each strike, vaporizing a great deal of the nickel and iron the asteroid was composed of, the material that wasn’t instantly vaporized fragmenting into hundreds of thousands of half melted chunks of rock.

After nearly a minute of constant bombardment, I stopped firing. I had three other twin-linked canon turrets that could be brought to bear on target. Targeting a location a kilometer from the crater I’d just made, I opened fire with the fore turret and the two wing turrets first on single burst then on rapid fire. The sheer amount of destruction was impressive. Then I brought all four turrets to bear creating a massive amount of destruction.

Beyond the sheer destruction I was wreaking on this poor asteroid which had never caused me harm, I was carefully monitoring the drain on the ship’s power systems. Even firing all the ship’s weapons on rapid fire, the drain was low, which was likely a benefit of the ship being overpowered for its size. Of course, I was stationary, and thus I wasn’t engaged in power intensive evasive maneuvers, and my shields, while up, weren’t being drained by being fired upon in combat. Unfortunately, I would likely require real combat to get a better sense for how the ship would handle under those demanding conditions.

Well, I had had enough fun firing on giant asteroids. It was time to fire on much smaller asteroids, ones that I could destroy completely while engaged in combat maneuvers.

Moving at full impulse into the heart of the most densely packed part of the asteroid field, I started firing, first at single targets, then engaging multiple targets with a single turret each with manual targeting. This proved exponentially more difficult to do, even with the abilities of an Augment. My eyes took in the copious amounts of sensor and targeting data, while my hands danced across the console to fire my weapons. Switching to automatic targeting and fire, my ship performed well, about as good as I did, but I had a feeling that the predictable movements of the asteroids made for much easier targets then a ship piloted by an unpredictable organic being intent on both surviving themselves and killing you.

Coming to a stop in a space devoid of asteroids, I glanced down at the neural control interface that had come with the ship. When I first saw it during my initial survey of the ship, I had to stop and stare a moment.

_The trolling continues,_ I thought, upon recognizing the design.

The neural control interface was literally the Cerebro helmet that Professor X used in X-Men Apocalypse. Undoubtedly cool, and maybe a bit too on the nose given its function, but definitely out of context for this dimension. The helmet was a grayish silver with a bright blue lit up circle of light over each ear and on the back of the head. A contact rested right over the forehead. Surprise, surprise, it fit me perfectly. Thankfully, it was wireless, with its own regenerative power source, and fit in a recess under the standard control console.

Putting it on, I imagined I looked and felt like Neo, plugging in for the first time after being liberated from the Matrix. I became the ship in a sense. Its sensors became my eyes, its propulsion system, my means of walking and running, etc. To call it having a ‘viewscreen’ in my head would be doing it a grave disservice.

Reaching out with my mind, my will was to destroy the metallic asteroids floating all around my ‘body.’ My will became reality as the ship responded, in the same way I put a foot forward to walk, effortlessly and almost unconsciously. There was no lag between my eyes taking in the targeting information and then directing my hands to tap buttons on a console and then for those button taps to direct the weapons to fire. In other words, there were several time-consuming steps taken out of the process. It was pure efficiency, a pure, direct mental control of the ship all with the speed of thought. In some ways it was intoxicating and overwhelming.

In the real world the ship’s four disrupter canon turrets were moving independently, tracking and firing on asteroids in every direction. There was no duplication of effort, no time spent tapping away on panels, being limited, even as an Augment, by the speed I could take in the information and my hands could move to tap awkwardly placed buttons on panels. And it was all _awkward_ in comparison, when you could become the ship itself. When connected to the ship like this I was no longer an independent entity inside a larger one, directing things. Now, _I was the larger entity_ , I was its brain, and there was no time between thought and when I took action.

It was like I was swimming through space and God did it feel good, though I knew this was dangerous on some level. The idea of being back in my body, felt small, _limited_ , even with all my enhanced abilities as an Augment. I had only been connected to the ship for 20 minutes or so, but my connection was deep because of the intense maneuvers I was pulling and the constant firing on the asteroids around me. This was too much too soon with how little experience I had with the neural interface. It was time to disconnect.

Coming to a full stop, I reluctantly pulled the helmet off, suddenly feeling smaller, less-than, handicapped almost. Looking out the window of my cockpit all I saw was a cloud of rapidly expanding debris, where once stood hundreds of asteroids.

I’d call that a successful test.

**XXXXX**

**Author’s Note:**

**Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I did, as it was a joy for me to write! If you want to support my writing and get exclusive pre-release access to the next two fully complete chapters of the story, chapters already written and proofed, consider becoming a Patron of this work. :-) You also get access to the pictures, information sources, music, and videos that inspired me during the writing process. A picture is worth a thousand words, so check out what was in my mind’s eye while writing.**

**To Become a Patron Visit: pat reon dot com /Joe_Lawyer**

[i] This was established in Star Trek: Enterprise, episode Two Days and Two Nights (2002).

[ii] See the Warp Speed Calculator


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to or part of Star Trek. This fan fiction was written purely for fun.

**The Adventures of Augment Gothic**

"Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return." ― Leonardo da Vinci

"If you were born without wings, do nothing to prevent them from growing."  
― Coco Chanel

**Chapter 8 – James Bond-esque Misadventures, but hey, you get laid.**

**Gothic's Ship. On Route to the Planet Risa.**

" _E'tsis_ _ **[i]**_ ," the computer over-pronounced quickly in Vulcan, which translated to 'city', meaning town/city/metropolitan area. The computer was providing me the correct pronunciation of the Vulcan word in the accent appropriate for someone born in the capital city, which would hopefully make me sound more cultured when I spoke it. I had already memorized tens of thousands of Vulcan words, their equivalent in English, and the way the Vulcans defined those words. My eidetic memory made that a rather quick process. The bottleneck in the process was in learning the correct pronunciation of those words and getting my mouth to cooperate at times.

" _E'tsis_ , _"_ I repeated. If I mispronounced the word, the computer would let me know by offering a correction. If it moved on to the next word in the sequence, I had obviously said it correctly. Being an Augment meant I had perfect control of my body, including my vocal cords, tongue, and mouth, key bits for speaking, but some alien words were so foreign or atypical for a human mouth it required a few attempts to get right.

Some races' languages, in whole or in part, could _not_ be pronounced by a human, meaning it was impossible. Thankfully, Vulcan and the other languages I'd learned could all be pronounced by a human. Once I got the pronunciation correct, even once, it was locked in my memory for all time, including the exact movement of my tongue, the way my lips had to move, etc. I had supreme control over my body, but practice was still required at times.

We were on the 'E' words right now, well, the equivalent of 'E' words, at least phonetically, considering Vulcan had its own alphabet, with unique corresponding sounds, which had only taken me a few minutes to memorize since it was a relatively short list. The computer was quickly running through the most common words in Vulcan, words actually used in conversation by normal people, rather than specialized words or terms used only in various scientific disciplines, words like ' _el-nala_ ' which translated to 'corpuscle' in English, meaning either of two types of cells (erythrocytes and leukocytes) and sometimes including platelets; blood cell. I had memorized that word and tens of thousands of other specialized words, memorization was easy for me, but in the very unlikely event I'd need to know how to pronounce such an esoteric word in the future, I'd take the time to deepen my knowledge base. That wasn't my purpose right now.

I had been inspired by that one episode in DS9 where those genetically enhanced misfits had learned the Dominion language and it had given them a valuable insight into the enemy and their hidden intentions. I could see a hundred different ways it'd be useful in the future. Total reliance on the universal translator was a crutch that too many people used. I had already successfully learned Klingon, Romulan and Cardassian in this manner. I had a lot of time to kill, so why not learn an alien language or four?

My eidetic memory made learning a new language very easy. The first step was to learn the tens or hundreds of thousands of words of its vocabulary, then the computer helped me conjugate verbs, then I learned the various associated grammatical rules and expectations in the way the language constructed sentences. Then the computer and I would have practice conversations in the language, but I was quite a ways away from that at the moment when it came to the Vulcan language.

" _Ek'talsu_ ," the computer continued, meaning 'scientist', a person having expert knowledge of one or more sciences, especially a natural or physical science.

" _Ek'talsu_ ," I repeated.

The grind continued.

**XXXXX**

"The message should read, ' _I was just thinking about you, Annika, and realized I had never released the last hostage from the Harry Potter series. No one should be denied the knowledge-'_ The experience, maybe? Forget that, that sounds fucking stupid," I said, trying again to come up with the perfect message.

Was this pathetic? Maybe. But fuck you! You spend two months in a ship, alone at warp, right after you broke up with your pseudo girlfriend and see what embarrassing shit you do when you're feeling intensely lonely and wondering if you made the right decision.

The woman I was dealing with over subspace was smiling indulgently, waiting patiently as I worked out just what to say. She was based on Earth and worked with off-world clients to deliver gifts to people on Earth. In this case, she'd be replicating the things I wanted to send on Earth, from my personal pattern database, and then delivering them to Annika.

"How about this, ' _I was thinking about you, Annika, and hoping that you're doing well. I wasn't happy with the way we left things, I probably could have broken the news better-'._ Gah! Why is this so fucking hard?!" I wondered aloud, part of me forgetting I had a witness to this little bit of drama. The stifled giggles coming from my display reminded me quite forcefully I had an audience.

A thousand quotes from greeting cards in grocery stores I'd once seen in my life flashed through my mind. Most of them overstated my feelings, or at least expressed more certainty about them then I truly felt at the moment. I seriously didn't know how I felt about Annika, or if she wanted any place in my life when it was going to be filled with travel and adventure.

"Strike that, try ' _No matter how far apart our paths diverge, I will always treasure the time we spent together_. _Thinking of you, Gothic,_ '" I said aloud. That was short and simple and did what I intended it to do without overstating my feelings. "Have you received the replicator patterns for the alcohol and the book?"

"Yes, sir, it's already been received. If you've settled on your personal message, we can have your items replicated and delivered to the recipient, Miss Annika Hansen, within an hour. Delivery is guaranteed."

"Good, yes, use the last message and send it all. And do _not_ replace the true alcohol content with synthehol," I instructed. "I own the exclusive replicator pattern rights to the booze and the copyright on the book. I, and the many skilled lawyers I will hire, will be _very_ unhappy if I learn anyone else gets a hold of either," I warned.

"Rest assured, sir, each item will be replicated only once and then purged from our systems. We pride ourselves on our discretion."

"Very good."

There was a nice bit of symmetry in sending her a bottle of Amaretto and the 7th and final book in the Harry Potter series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. At the end of our first date I had replicated her an amaretto sour and the first book in the series, and had joked with her then about how I was holding the rest of the series hostages for future dates, or something to that effect. I think that would appeal to her. I had held off on giving her the final book, intending on giving it to her on the 1-year anniversary of our first date. A gifted starship had thrown that plan right out the airlock.

This might all be a horrible idea, possibly giving her hope that something could work between when it probably wouldn't or even worse, tormenting her on some level, which was not my intent at all.

Hopefully she'd continue to think of me and our time together fondly.

**XXXXX**

It had been over a week since I had tried on the neural interface helmet during my weapons test in the asteroid field. The urge to put it back on again was worrying, but the urge was not physical in nature. It was not addicting in the physical sense, like you'd experience with a narcotic drug, but more in the sense that you felt 'less than' afterwards when back in your normal body, limited by the flesh, even mine. For someone like me, an Augment with seemingly unending ability and ambition, it may as well have been a physical addiction.

The increased capabilities the neural interface provided was not something I could set aside and never use again. The weapons test had been an eye opener in terms of just how much a force multiplier the ability to mentally control my little ship was. While everyone else was essentially using the equivalent of analog, I'd be using digital. That was an advantage that could save my life one day.

This past week I had meditated on the experience, fully immersing myself in it. Tasting it and touching it and reliving it in the way only an Augment with an eidetic memory could. The memory was not truly dynamic, I couldn't change my past actions, so that protected me from some of the temptation involved.

Yes, the feeling of flying through space was intoxicating, the ultimate form of freedom, the shields and weapons, the ultimate form of protection, but there were things a ship could never experience, the pleasures of the flesh for one. My thoughts turned to the nights of passion I'd experienced with Annika, the overwhelming bliss of our lovemaking, even the cuddling afterward, the feelings I'd experienced recently. Focusing on the pleasure, the feelings involved, helped put the experience with the neural interface helmet in perspective. These were not things I could have as a starship, drowning in the sensation of flight through the endless inky black of space. The physical body still had much to offer. Perspective was what I needed. An anchor to call me back to the flesh. An anchor that would remind me of the limitations the neural interface would demand.

This new found perspective gave me the strength to resist the siren call the neural interface offered. Of course, there were practical demands or concerns as well. The fact that I would die without proper nourishment or that the ship would require maintenance to stay operational that could only be performed by hand, seemed secondary when in the digital/mental world. After a week of deep meditation, spending several hours a day in that state, I felt I had reached a good place, an equilibrium that would keep me grounded and from losing myself in the interface.

My plan was to put on the helmet while at warp, but not otherwise do anything else. There would be no intense maneuvers around asteroids or firing the weapons at everything within range this time. I merely wanted to immerse myself in the interface and passively feel the ship traveling at warp.

Putting on the helmet, I closed my eyes, and yet I saw so much more. The stars flashing by in the relativistic warped space time I was flying in was more than just streaks of white light, it was the galaxy itself. Even now incredible amounts of data was available to me coming from the ship's sensors, everything from the particle density of nearby space, to the amount of time a nearby star had left before it went supernova, to the power conversion statistics of my ship.

I took it all in, and yet let it pass through me. I remained myself, a limited organic being, but temporarily granted sight beyond sight, strength beyond strength, speed beyond speed. Perspective was what I needed to stay grounded and thankfully I kept my sense of identity. I could enjoy this experience but also recognize that it was temporary and transitory.

Now, how could I use this interface to assist with my ongoing projects? The answer came to me, almost as if I was given a gentle suggestion by a friend, like a small nudge to a potential answer. I was entirely alone on the ship, but in this digital/mental space, I was accompanied by the ship's computer, an intelligence of sorts by some definitions. It wasn't sentient, but it could almost appear intuitive by the sheer computational power and tremendous amount of information it held. Of course, I was tied into the ship, separate, but one, temporarily, and thus the ship knew what I knew. Just as its sensors and memory banks were available to me at the speed of thought, my memories and ongoing projects were available to it.

Now that was an intriguing idea.

With the speed of a mental command, I wirelessly interfaced with my personal database and accessed the holoprogram I had created way back when, when I had been on the _Enterprise_ , a program I had sold online and had intermittently worked on since, adding new levels, new grids, new light cycles as expansion packs for my fans to purchase and enjoy. The Tron program had actually been a nice source of income for me and I had a small, but dedicated fan-base.

These expansions had taken a good bit of time to program, but thankfully, most writing for a holo-program did not actually require an author to be _in_ a holodeck to do. That made sense, not everyone had access to their own dedicated holodecks for the sheer amount of time needed to author a complex holo-novel environment. Of course, doing this on a holodeck was easier in some ways, you could see your changes in real-time in a 3-dimesional environment, and experience the environment/characters/interaction like your end user would.

No, a great deal of a holo-author's 'writing' took place sitting at a desk, manually adjusting a character's narrative parameter file or making small adjustments to the environment on a 2-dimesional screen. That, like so many other things I'd experienced in the 24th century Federation, struck me as stupid. The neural interface helmet my ship came with meant I could design virtually, all in my head. I would no longer need to verbally instruct the computer to 'open the narrative parameter files' or 'character personality subroutines.' I could simply will something into existence. And that's just what I did.

With a thought, a Tron battle grid appeared before me, a glossy black floor separated by endless bright white lines set in a grid pattern. The grid stretched endlessly into the distance, but I wasn't really there. There was no depiction of myself, only my consciousness was there. In moments, I started designing and building a holographic Light Jet, an aerial combat vehicle, for inclusion into my Tron program.

I wasn't giving any individual commands, though, like I would sitting in front of my computer. I was imagining what this light jet could look like, and with the speed of thought, the computer took my imaginings and designed them virtually. They say a picture was worth a thousand words, in this case it was a thousand separate commands. A modern author did a very weird mix of creative writing and computer programming.

Since my Hovercruiser 924M was fresh on my mind, a strikingly similar vehicle began to take shape, the computer instantly accessing the schematics for my hovercruiser and creating them virtually on the battle grid. With more thoughts, the color scheme was changed to better fit the Tron aesthetic, the wings shortened, and weapons were added. 'Looking' around I expanded the battle grid to allow for flight combat, a ceiling 1,000 feet in the air being created.

For fun, I added floating asteroids to up the difficulty level by reaching into the ship's sensor records and modeling the placement and movements of the asteroids in my program after the real-life asteroids I'd just spent hours destroying during my ship's weapons test.

With another thought there were two light jets, both manned by AI pilot users, who saluted me before taking off into the inky black of the battle grid, trying to destroy each other because I had commanded it, colorful ribbons of red and blue light lingering behind them as they flew.

The ribbons expanded when I saw the demands of aerial combat required a few adjustments. A light cycle traveling on the ground had far fewer options when it came to avoiding the ribbons of their enemy, but in the air, it was all too easy to avoid. With another thought, each light cycle had the equivalent of phasers, a ribbon beam shooting forward at good speed, but completely straight, till it hit the boundary wall of the aerial battle grid and ricocheting off till it hit another wall, creating a deadly prison of light obstacles to avoid. I added a melodic 'ding' sound upon the ricochet to add more drama to the battle.

One of the user pilots blew up rather spectacularly after only a few shots, so that wouldn't do. Perhaps limiting the number of ricochets? Instantly the users' phasers were limited to only two ricochets off the walls before they dissipated into nothingness. If a phaser light beam struck a floating asteroid, it would destroy it, spraying deadly shrapnel and disrupting the movements of the other asteroids.

I watched for nearly thirty minutes of gameplay, each user pilot 'dying' many times over. In reality only a few seconds in the real world had passed before I decided another weapon was needed. The asteroids added some difficulty to the gameplay, but they were rather predictable in their movements. What if each user's light jet had a gravitational pull of its own that could disrupt the movements of the asteroids as well? And what if each user could use what was essentially a tractor beam to purposely disrupt the movements of the asteroids? A skilled user could throw asteroids or purposely place them to limit the evasive flight maneuvers of their enemies.

Implementing the change was instantaneous, my mind and the computer instantly making probably hundreds of decisions in order to add functionality and tweak the governing physics of the game world. In the real world the computer probably would have required me to have defined each asteroid's mass, the gravitational force of each user's light jet, and a thousand other little things.

I was pleased. A half hour had passed by in the real world, the ship's chronometer instantly available to me, and yet I had already designed a new battle grid, a new light jet for my Tron holo-program, and a completely different mode of play. This would have literally taken me, an Augment of great ability, upwards of a day or more of concentrated effort to duplicate without the direct neural interface.

You know, I had often lamented how my Tron holo-program would have benefitted from the Tron: Legacy soundtrack. That music written by Daft Punk was amazing for the program, but unfortunately, I had never purchased it back in my old dimension, always streaming it when I wanted to listen to it. That meant I didn't have a digital copy in my database.

I had considered reproducing the music somehow, from memory, but that would be an involved process I had learned. I'd have to learn various instruments, reproduce the mixing, the sound effects, so many different things. What I would have loved to do, was simply take my memory of the soundtrack, something I had listened to dozens of times and put it into the computer directly. The memory from my old life was fuzzy, but with great effort it could be retrieved. Before now, before the neural interface helmet, I couldn't simply transfer my memory of the music into the computer.

Reaching back into my memory, I let the music fill my mind, the complex electronic tones of Flynn Lives, Recognizer, Son of Flynn, Adagio for Tron, and the Tron: Legacy End Titles filling me up. I felt the computer digitizing the music in real time, creating audio files that could be used in my program, and even dynamically matched up to the user's battle in the program. Quite accidentally, even the movie itself was extracted from my memory and digitized, then stored in my personal database.

A thousand other already mapped out minor improvements to the program were implemented over the next minute, improvements I had already fully thought through, but had never found the time to complete the time-consuming process of inputting them. These planned improvements were all in my mind and the execution had been running in the background, as it were. Now that I was aware of it, there was something akin to a completion bar gradually filling up, something that I probably unconsciously created.

 _Save program_ , I thought rather unnecessarily, a sense of giddiness nearly overwhelming me.

That had been intense.

Could I interface with the Ferengi design computer and take my incomplete weapon and armor designs to the next level? Reaching out to the design computer, I hit a hard wall and felt something akin to a headache develop. This was a virtual world, but my mind was 'in the matrix' as it were. Running headfirst into a hard wall would hurt me in the real world. It was the same in the digital world with a software firewall.

My Ferengi virtual design computer possessed the ability to interface with other more powerful computers and systems, but I had put hard limits on its ability to do so while on Earth, fearing being spied upon by either Starfleet Intelligence or Section 31. I guess I'd need to 'log off' and open up that connectivity now that I was on a ship that I owned and now using systems I fully controlled. Once I did that, though, I suspected I'd be making some substantial progress.

Before I did that, though, I uploaded my new and improved Tron holo-program, with awesome music to the GIN. Let's see if the improved program attracted any new customers, or convince the old customers to shell out the credits/gold pressed latinum to buy the expansion pack.

**XXXXX**

**Space Port. Planet Risa.**

Given that there were up to a _billion_ visiting tourists from all over the quadrant on the planet at any given time, the spaceport was rather busy and just like in my time, you had to go through customs before you could start your vacation. So, I had ended up waiting for a while in the 24th century version of a line…but in warp capable starships. Some things changed…

As I waited, I had the privilege of listening to a simply _riveting_ machine voice talk about the planet, repeating many of the same facts and figures I'd already read about at one point during my roughly three months of travel from Earth to Risa. I listened because I didn't really have a choice in the matter, and it did have interspersed bits of important information like customs requirements and landing procedures. Visitors were required to accept this comm signal and were _supposed_ to listen to this introduction, much like airline passengers were once forced to listen to a safety training on each and every flight they took. You were restricted from even lowering the volume! As an Augment with an eidetic memory, I'd be able to perfectly recite these words for the rest of my life. I guess you had to take the good with the bad.

' _Visitors to this world, no matter how many times they have already seen it, never cease to be awestruck at the pristine beauty, the brilliance, the perfection of the planet_ ,' it droned on and on and on.

All who bothered to learn, though, were fully aware of the all-too synthetic, mechanical nature of its beauty, only possible through the most sophisticated and powerful artificial weather control system in the entire Federation. That system alone kept storm patterns and global temperatures completely predictable and controlled, but as far as the vast majority were concerned, that was more an asset than a liability. I didn't feel it took away from the fun I'd had on the surface; a fake pair of big breasts was still a pair of big breasts.

' _It is an expression of triumph, a monument to the vast ingenuity of sentient life, to what we can control, to what we can create when we set our minds to it. Looking out from an arriving shuttle, visitors are rarely able to tear their gaze away from what they see, like the vast resorts, the towering themed hotel complexes looking out to the ocean, the wide variety of amusement parks extending throughout the mainland, to the jungles, the islands, the cruise vessels made to look straight out of a history book, and of course, the long stretch of pristine beaches, wide enough to provide the proper balance between peaceful tranquility and friendly community._ '

I figured that the machine was going to talk for a while. I promised myself that at the very first opportunity I'd replicate myself the modern equivalent of noise canceling headphones and something that played music.

**XXXXX**

**Amandari Resort. Planet Risa.**

Eventually I'd gotten past customs and had found the place I was to reside in for the next few days, though I planned to stay on the planet for a few weeks at least. Since there were extensive accommodations available for tourists all over the planet my intention was to move around and stay at quite a few places to get the full experience.

The first place I was staying at was a rather nice hotel that was a stone's throw away from the beach and was located right next to an atoll lagoon of great beauty. After unpacking I tossed on a pair of blue vintage board shorts (and nothing else) from my time and went down to the beach, deciding to park myself in a really comfy looking bed-like thing right next to the crystal-clear blue waters of the lagoon.

I had literally just spent about three months traveling through the dark of space, _by myself_ , and was eager to take in the incredible sunshine of a binary star system. The soothing and warming rays of the sun, or _the suns_ , whatever, on my bare skin, was just what I needed to rejuvenate my spirt. My vocabulary really needed to adjust to something less Earth-centric.

The view of the water was beautiful and the many beautiful people walking around even better, many in bikinis, some topless, some even entirely nude. I guess this was something that they couldn't show on a network television show, or the various Starfleet officers we followed to the planet, like Picard, chose a much more conservative resort than I did. I quite enjoyed the appreciative looks of the many people around, some of which being decidedly alien in appearance.

I had reserved this circular, bed lounger hybrid right next to the water's edge. It had a retractable canopy with wicker rattan frame and siding. The canopy obviously could be lowered to varying degrees to protect against the sun, but it looked like it could essentially seal the bed entirely from view. On a planet like Risa, I had a pretty good suspicion what that could be used for. Depending on the resort, whether it was for adults only, like the one I was at, you could easily encounter couples or more having very visible and public sex right out in the open.

Since a suntan was essentially short-term damage to the skin, I was actually curious to see if an Augment like myself could even tan. Somehow that hadn't come up in any of the talks I'd had with Beverly on the _Enterprise_. It was also something that hadn't really come up during my time on Earth, given my insane training regime and spending most of it indoors or on a holodeck.

Once I had set down, eager to show off the rippling and powerful muscles I'd done little to achieve, I reached into my bag and pulled out a thick, pre-Federation, hardcover book that I had replicated, a copy created from a surviving original in the collection of the library I had formerly worked at. The author was actually known to me from my old life, however the story was not, and I was looking forward to reading something that hadn't existed in my universe for one unknown reason or another.

However, I found myself quite distracted by the many pleasant sounds around me, the roar of the waves, the rustle of the leaves of the nearby tropical foliage, the endless happy chatter of people in the hotel, and what I guessed to be the joyous laughter of the beautiful young women who seemed to populate Risa. I don't think I'd seen even a single unattractive Risian male or female yet.

My ship, during the long journey here, hadn't been silent per se, the engines made a pleasant ever-present hum while at warp, but it had been perpetually rather quiet. The sounds I was hearing now, though, were the sounds of life. It's funny how spending three months by yourself could put things in a different perspective.

Then I heard a voice say my name, my _actual_ name, not the one I had chosen for myself upon arriving in this universe. Seriously, I hadn't heard that name or even thought of it since my time on the _Enterprise._ That wasn't me anymore. That person's experiences were part of me, but it was no longer who I was. I would have told the person off for using it at all only to be struck silent for a moment.

The woman who had called my name had windswept, flowing red hair and a petite muscular figure, with pretty green eyes. She was wearing a revealing one-piece, beige colored swimsuit. The color wasn't attractive to me, but everything else sure was. Once I finally looked up at her face, I determined that she was likely fully human, though that was just a guess considering the number of humanoid species around that so closely matched humanity. It also likely explained the beige color choice; humans in this century tended to favor sedate colors and had _awful_ taste in clothing in my opinion.

"Yes?" I asked, once I had stopped checking her out. "Can I help you?"

Since the people who knew me personally were either on Earth or on the _Enterprise_ I had no idea how this woman recognized me, or how she even knew my old name. My finely honed sense for shenanigans was pinging.

"Hello, my name is Natalie Romanov," she introduced.

Natalie Romanov? _Seriously?_ From the Marvel Cinematic Universe? A super spy former assassin who worked for SHIELD? The most elite and ruthless intelligence agency on the Earth of that universe? If my shenanigans senses were pinging before, there was a gong practically ringing in my head now, telling me to be careful.

Well, let's see, Russian name but she didn't sound Russian, at all, but that didn't mean anything in this time; she might never have set foot on Earth in her life for all I knew. However, I got the impression that that wasn't what she was really called, just like her actress counterpart from another universe and that made me curious. I could speak Russian now, so I could speak to her in that language, but again, that didn't really mean anything in this time.

"Please, call me Gothic," I told her.

The woman's smile became more confident.

"It's Lieutenant Natalie Romanov, actually," she informed me. "I'm a member of Starfleet Intelligence."

Starfleet Intelligence wasn't my primary suspect, but ok, let's go with that just for fun's sake.

I'd wondered quite a few times whether Starfleet Intelligence would have someone keeping an eye on me and my movements. I wasn't the only known augment around, not by any means, however most of my fellow augments only had _minor_ genetic enhancements, at least when compared to mine.

The risks of genetic engineering, in terms of unforeseen and possibly debilitating complications, increased _exponentially_ the more a person's DNA was messed with, so most augments today were nowhere near as strong, as tough, as smart, or as fast as I was, and certainly not all at the same time. That made me far more dangerous than the rest, the total genetic upgrade package, as it were. You'd have to go back to the era of Khan to find a human like me.

And _human_ was the operative word. While the shows made it seem like the prohibition on genetic engineering was Federation-wide, every planet in the Federation had a degree of autonomy. Earth, and humans, in general, were prohibited by the ban on genetic engineering, but there were Federation members that used it. Huge distinction there. There were also Federation member races and planets that had adopted the ban as well. It made some sense. Where did the parents of the various Augment seen in show, like Bashir, take their kids?

No, surveillance was practically expected, especially when you added in the historical connotations of being an Augment who had grown up and lived during the era of Khan and it wasn't crazy to think that I'd be under surveillance for a while. My actions on Earth probably hadn't helped, even though I'd bent over backwards to ensure everything I did was by the book and 100% legal. In fact, if I hadn't left Earth when I did, my probability analyses suggested that legitimate surveillance could last up to a year before they decided I wasn't going to cause trouble.

"I would show you my identification," Natalie said, sounding sheepish while glancing down at her bathing suit while running her hands over her curves, likely with the intent of encouraging me to take another look at her well-formed body, "but as you can see, I don't have much on me."

People in this dimension seemed to undervalue the incredible utility of pockets, for some reason. It was only in the last few seasons of TNG, for example, that the Starfleet duty uniform moved away from that ridiculous unisuit style. I had a mind to wear cargo pants everywhere, complete with a multi-compartment utility belt in protest! As for the ID, I had no idea what identification an intelligence agent would even carry, nor would I even know how to authenticate it, so using it to prove who she was would have been completely pointless.

"You don't need to show me any ID," I told her. "If you say you're with Starfleet Intelligence, then I'll take your word for it."

I did find it pretty odd, though, that she was here talking to me if she was meant to be spying on me. She'd essentially blown her cover. Unless this introduction was necessary for her _real_ mission, to get close to me or con me into something.

"I just didn't want you to get the wrong impression," she said.

Since I didn't have much of an impression about her, at all, I had no idea what she worrying about. In fact, it was a pretty odd thing to say.

"What an odd thing to say, Natalie. But, please, feel free to sit down," I offered, while gesturing to an empty lounge chair next to mine. "You might as well tell me whatever it is you came over to tell me."

If she wasn't here to keep tabs on me, then she must have had another reason for talking to me and I wanted to know what that was. She might actually want to talk to me in a non-professional capacity, but somehow I doubted that, otherwise she wouldn't have mentioned her rank or who she worked for without even being asked. This was all super sketchy.

"Thank you," she said, before gracefully taking the offered seat.

These new eyes didn't miss much, but it'd be hard to miss how she moved with an almost predatory grace. She didn't say anything after that, just looking at me, so I decided to guide the conversation.

"I assume you've heard of me. You did use my birth name, a name I don't use anymore by the way," I probed causally.

The Federation was big, but gossip traveled faster than even Warp 9, so I didn't doubt that talk about the Augment from another time and dimension had already spread far and wide, at least within Starfleet itself. The Federation had actually done a pretty good job of not spreading around my status while on Earth, likely wanting to prevent any bad situations from developing.

"You've aroused quite a lot of interest in some corners of the fleet," she informed me.

I imagined that many people, both in and out of Starfleet, took special notice of everything that took place onboard the _Enterprise_ ; it being the center of so many important events. That would include noticing the people who stayed onboard the flagship, especially someone like me, an Augment from another time and dimension.

"Particularly in Intelligence, I presume?" I inquired.

She nodded.

"I suppose I should be flattered," I said, my sarcasm clearly heard.

Again, nothing was said for a while after, and I found this incredibly annoying because it meant that this agent might be playing a game with me, testing me, maybe even as some sort of passive interrogation technique, exploiting the power of silence and all that.

"Why don't you tell me about yourself?" I requested.

Somehow, I doubted that she would be forthcoming, but her answer could be useful in figuring out what the game was here.

"What do you want to know?" she asked.

Thus, answering a question with a question and giving nothing away, while my words would reveal information about myself.

I pondered that for a moment. Let's send up an easy question and see what happens.

"Did you join Intelligence right after leaving the Academy?" I inquired.

She didn't take long to answer.

"More or less," she said.

Well, _fuck you, bitch_. What kind of game was being played here? Let's throw in some flattery mixed with mild insults.

"Either you're one of the best field agents they have, or you're a novice at this and have no idea what you're doing," I reasoned.

She raised an eyebrow while looking at me.

"How did you know?" she wondered.

Again, with the fucking childish evasions. Was she testing my impulse control? To see what I'd do if she made me angry or annoyed me enough? The Khan-era augments were a volatile bunch, ready to do ridiculous levels of violence at the slightest insult or small annoyance. I noted again that she wasn't telling me _anything_ , which meant either she was a cautious newbie, trying to piss me off, or very good at her job. Or she could be carefully eliciting and studying my reactions to build a better psychographic profile of me. She might even have some technology on her or nearby studying my body's reactions with medical sensors.

"I'm genetically enhanced," I said with finality, like that should explain it all, before turning my attention back to my book, unwilling to engage any further. Let her come to her own conclusions as to what that bit of nonsense meant.

She nodded. We sat in silence for probably 10 minutes more. Like hell I was going to break first.

Our silence was actually broken by a young Risian girl, acting as a waitress to the resort guests. She was blonde haired, blue eyed, with a trim figure, modest bust, and had a Norwegian-like beauty about her. She was quite beautiful, like all Risian women I'd seen so far. She was also topless, her perky breasts and rosy nipples tanned by the sun available for everyone to enjoy the sight of.

"Can I get either of you a drink from the bar, _or anything else_?" she asked, with an inviting smile.

I had a feeling more than just drinks were being offered, which fit the culture from the shows and what I'd learned during my research on the trip here.

An interesting bit of trivia considering how hedonistic the planet was was that prior to joining the Federation, the Risian people had had no age of consent, meaning the age at which a person was considered legally competent to consent to sexual acts. In my home country, the United States, the age differed by state, but the age of consent in my native Ohio was 16. The vast majority of US states also had their age of consent set at 16 with only a handful at 17 and a few at 18, like New York and California. Even now, after their admission to the Federation, the Risians had no such laws between themselves, only with aliens, which was set at 16 years of age.

No, the Risians had no age of consent nor did they have any sexual criminal laws amongst themselves. And it was not just a situation where everything was permitted, thus nothing was criminal, no, it was simply that the underlying actions just didn't happen in their society. Consent and good manners were paramount to them. It was anathema to them, unthinkable, to do anything someone was uncomfortable with, which in Risian society was a very short list and very person specific. They gave so freely amongst themselves as a race that they just didn't understand the sexual mores and taboos of other races. On Risa, even children participated freely in open sexual play with other children, routinely, often with their parents' guidance. It was a very alien culture to most species, but incredibly fucking fascinating to me.

When they joined the Federation and opened their planet and culture to visitation by everyone, they had practically been forced to adopt certain Federation beliefs and laws, at least when it came to the various alien races who couldn't be counted on to strictly adhere to consent and good manners. Even then the Risians would likely let the aliens get away with it. The Federation, though, had applied certain laws to alien visitors, which meant everyone except the Risians themselves. The 24th century Federation was nowhere near as prudish as the people of my time, but nor were they as open and free as the ancient cultures of Earth, like Ancient Rome or Greece. The Federation still had a few limits.

This beautiful girl, if she was working on a resort and dealt with alien tourists, was at minimum, 16 years old, and thus free to consent to sexual acts with whatever alien visitor she wanted.

"No, thank you," Natalie answered, barely looking at the Risian girl.

"For you, sir?" she asked, looking me over quite openly, and obviously finding me pleasing to the eye.

"You know what, I _would_ like a drink, a Bahama Mama, from Earth," I ordered, knowing the drink had survived to the modern day, including the rum and other juices needed to make it. Identifying the planet of origin of your drink order was often a necessity given the number of species around. "And I'll also take a _blowjob_ , if that's all right," I said, smiling widely, though not entirely sure this was kosher. Reading about it was one thing, doing it was another.

"All that is ours is yours," she said softly, a large smile on her lips, looking quite happy at my request. I got the feeling she was pleasantly surprised at finding a human who asked freely for what he wanted.

She tapped quickly at a PADD, placing the drink order, before crawling sensuously into my lounger bed, her breasts gently swaying, kneeling between my legs as she untied my shorts, and opened the fly to extract my cock. I was about half mast, but her soft and gentle skilled hands quickly brought me to my full 10 inches, a size she looked rather surprised and pleased by. She quickly brought her lips to the head of my cock and began to hungrily swirl her tongue around me, applying an insane amount of suction.

I looked over at Natalie, as nonchalantly as was possible with a platinum blonde head of hair bobbing in my lap, the sounds of hardcore sucking quite loud. My intent in asking for this blowjob was more than the obvious, it was designed to gauge her reaction. Modern humans, even on Risa, did not fully embrace the Risian way of life, requiring artifice in the form of the Horga'hn statue or some wining and dining in their mating rituals. They really didn't just embrace the culture, or the truth that they only needed to ask and it was theirs. The Risians really fucking meant it when they said 'All that is our is yours.' They were really a fascinating race and culture.

My intent was to thrust this situation in Natalie's face, in order to gain some insight into her background, character, and personality by watching her reaction. I had just brazenly asked a very young looking Risian waitress for a blowjob, and it was being performed right in front of her, right out in the open, with little shame on my part.

Natalie barely reacted, which was rather telling. There was no look of revulsion on her race, no anger that I had asked for such a thing, or embarrassed by how public it was, or at the girl's young age, not even a look that suggested I had confirmed her worst fears of me being a despotic Augment. No, it was just frank appreciation for my size, and mild interest watching the young Risian girl really go to town on my cock. She might have even been evaluating the girl's technique! Even when I threaded my fingers through the girl's hair and roughly forced her to deepthroat me repeatedly, the 'gaghk, gaghk, gaghk' pretty loud, there was no reaction. Natalie was a _woman,_ one who'd been around the block, not some wet behind the ears novice.

I let it go on for a few more minutes, looking between Natalie and the girl who was lovingly sucking my cock. It was a bit embarrassing that I hadn't even learned the name of the young girl who was so skillfully pleasuring me.

Finally, I let go of the iron grip I had on my body's reaction, shooting a copious amount of cum down her throat, which she greedily swallowed. When she was done milking me fully, she looked up at me and smiled dreamily, looking almost drunk or high, which made me cringe internally a bit. I really didn't need whoever Natalie worked for looking into the effects my semen or blood or DNA had on others.

"Are all humans as well-endowed as you or taste as good?" she asked.

"No, I'd like to think I'm quite unique," I joked. "Thank you so much. You gave me great pleasure. If you'd like a more full night of passion with me, I hope you'll seek me out before I leave the resort."

"I will! All that is ours is yours," she intoned, before shakily walking off, a dreamy expression on her face. I had a feeling she'd be singing my praises to the other women around the resort.

I worked very hard to keep a smile on my face, trying to show nothing was unusual. This little test had been both pleasurable and productive. Natalie's lack of reaction was very telling. A young, inexperienced lieutenant in Starfleet Intelligence would have likely reacted more strongly or gotten up and left long ago, rather than just sit there and watch passively with zero reaction.

"Are you busy?" I asked. "Tonight, I mean."

I was curious what her answer would be and wondering if this was going to turn into some sort of James Bond-esque misadventure that she would drag me into. The very idea that she was some file clerk at Starfleet Intelligence who really didn't know how to talk to men, even on a planet where she could have a dozen buff Risian men gangbanging her in 20 seconds at the slightest indication, was just silly.

I was leaning more towards James Bond misadventure, but it was pretty annoying that the only reason I suspected that was because I was leaning on my meta knowledge of this universe and others, and an impromptu test I'd come up with on the fly. I really wanted to find out more about her, what her purpose in doing this really was. And didn't that just _stink_ of an intelligence outfit having already created a fairly accurate psychographic profile on me. _I fucking hate being played._

"No," she simply replied.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound; let's see where this led.

"How about we have dinner together then?" I asked.

She looked at me again, but I couldn't tell if she had been tasked with testing me but not really knowing what the ultimate purpose of her mission was, or if she was a pro who betrayed nothing and was manipulating me with her every word and non-answer towards some unknown purpose. Enhanced brain and cognitive functions aside, I was still a complete neophyte at all this cloak and dagger bullshit. Being an Augment didn't mean you couldn't be manipulated, it just made it harder.

"Tempting," she said.

Again, another non-answer. How utterly un-fucking-surprising.

"1800 then," I stated rather than asked.

She nodded in acceptance.

"Well, there's bound to be a restaurant near here," I reasoned, while glancing around.

One of the natives would be helpful in recommending a suitable option.

"Would you agree to…come to my room instead?" she asked nervously.

That surprised me to hear, and that nervousness was sounding pretty fake now that I'd had more time to analyze her behavior and set benchmarks for comparison. I had been balls deep in a gagging 16-year-old Risian girl mere minutes ago, to which she didn't even react, but asking me to come to her room was making her nervous? Pull the other one.

"I have some work I've brought along, which needs finishing," she told me. "I'd prefer to do so as soon as possible."

She was either a terrible spy or very good at pretending to be a bad spy. I really had to find out which it was. Somehow, I just knew I was going to regret this.

**XXXXX**

I looked up from my dinner and noticed that my dining companion had barely touched her food. She was looking around at her surroundings, which included a window with a truly spectacular view of the lagoon and for the life of me I couldn't tell what her mood was.

"Is this your first time on Risa?" I asked.

She looked up at me, and her face gave me a look of confusion.

"Hmm?" she muttered in a distracted manner.

For a moment I tensed, was she waiting for something to happen? Is that why she was distracted?

My eyes subtly darted around the room looking for threats, now wondering if this had been a trap from the start and something was about to go down, however everything continued to remain peaceful. I turned my thoughts inward and brought up the memory of our recent meeting and interaction, looking to see if there was anything suspicious about the people around the pool, the serving staff, anything. Had she had a partner or partners? Had there been signals passed between them I'd missed the first time around? Anybody showing an inordinate amount of interest in us? Nothing. Though I suddenly felt safer having chosen to put on my personal shield device.

"I was asking whether or not you've been to Risa before," I repeated.

She shook her head.

"No, I haven't been to Risa before now," she told me.

Finally, a straight answer, but was it the truth? I replayed the last few seconds in my mind, pausing and moving forward in slow motion looking for any micro expressions that might give away any deception. As best as I could tell, she was telling the truth.

She fit in better than I did in this restaurant. I had chosen to wear a bright red three button blazer over a white shirt, white slacks, and white shoes, with a white tie square. I looked sharp as hell, but on a Risian resort you could wear as little as you liked. All she wore now was a different colored one-piece bathing suit with some transparent fabric wrapped around her waist to act as a skirt. In my time it would have been a cover-up, but as it was transparent, so not much was covered up.

"Let me guess, you're not exactly here on vacation," I said.

Again, she looked confused, though now that I had spent some time with her, I had previous reactions to compare this expression to. This confusion was fake.

"I'm thinking that you're a secret agent who gets sent to exotic places around the galaxy," I told her.

She smiled at me.

"Well, sometimes that is what happens," she admitted.

Truth. But she wasn't actually telling me anything of substance, and I couldn't tell whether she was doing it on purpose to get a rise out of me, or her job meant she routinely gave as little information as possible and it was habit. It was making me a little crazy. So crazy, I was seriously contemplating telling this chick to fuck off and just walking right out of here. This was Risa, I could find a bed partner walking down the hall.

"But not all the time, of course," I said.

She shook her head and sighed.

"Sadly no," she replied.

I leaned back in my seat, my patience beginning to wear thin, and looked over the rim of my sunglasses so that I could study her.

"So, are you here for work or pleasure, Natalie?" I asked. "Because not knowing is going to drive me crazy. I know people come to Risa to have fun, and that includes copious amounts of casual sex, but I get the sense that that isn't what this is about and I have just about had my fill of non-answers and evasions."

She narrowed her eyes as she leaned forward and then she beckoned me closer with her finger.

"You're right," she said, quietly. "I'm here on assignment."

Truth, mostly, but I had a strong suspicion that _I_ was the assignment, or at least the primary assignment. Given this elaborate and increasingly ridiculous conversation, I was almost certainly the target of that supposed assignment.

"Doing what?" I inquired.

Before she answered I wondered if maybe I was somehow all wrong about this. Maybe she was just trying to impress me, and she was, in fact, just a file clerk. Knowing how crazy my life was, I wouldn't bet a single credit on it.

"This is highly classified," I was informed. "Intelligence has been receiving reports of Syndicate activity in this area for the past several weeks. We suspect that they have a base of operations set up here on Risa."

While my knowledge of the extant criminal factions in this galaxy wasn't very detailed, at least when compared to an actual intelligence agent, I did have some idea of what she was talking about. Still, I figured I'd best make sure.

"The Orion Syndicate?" I asked.

Now she looked amused.

"Is there another 'Syndicate' we should be aware of?" she asked back, with a laugh.

Given how 'out of date' I was, I felt that my question had been a legitimate one, for all I knew there were hundreds of criminal 'syndicates' scattered across the quadrant. Of course, the Orion Syndicate was the only one ever talked about in the shows, but I couldn't exactly act like I had all that knowledge. Thankfully the name had come up in some of my previous studies so there was a verifiable source for my knowledge.

"There have been a lot of recent withdrawals, large sums of latinum taken out of certain monitored Syndicate accounts in the Bank of Bolius. The money was transferred across a few sectors and then physically brought here to this area," she informed me. "Aside from that all we know is that in an establishment a few blocks away from here there is a man who has suddenly become very wealthy at the same time, with no discernible explanation or known source of income, and he's been seen with people connected to the Syndicate while gambling at the casinos."

If this man was human, then he was a very odd one, as aside from myself I'd never met any human who would do anything for mere latinum. But, there were oddballs in every race.

"We suspect that the Syndicate is planning something that will happen soon, and that it involves the man I've been investigating," she explained. "And it's something important enough to warrant paying someone so much gold pressed latinum."

Something didn't add up here.

"Why didn't you check in to _that_ resort?" I asked.

She'd be able to keep a much better eye on her target if she was staying inside the same hotel after all.

"We didn't want to risk me being spotted by the Syndicate," she told me. "I report regularly to my superiors. We couldn't take the risk of anyone spying on me while in my quarters, or detecting the transmissions when giving updates on my investigation. That was why I chose to stay here and work; I was analyzing the information we already have and then confirming everything with my contact at Headquarters."

This answered a lot, but not why she was telling me all of this, or why it still stank so much like a set up.

"I'm obviously not authorized to know this sort of thing," I stated simply.

Which made this all the more confusing.

"Of course not," she agreed.

We stared at each other in silence for a few moments.

"So, I assume you want my help. You wouldn't share this with me otherwise," I stated plainly.

That seemed to be where this was going, in fact almost certainly from the very first word.

"I do," she answered simply.

Despite her supposed need I saw no reason why I should help her or play along with this whole farce. Sure, it made sense, on paper, _maybe_ , for her to want my help in particular, given my unique abilities, but to choose me over the probably tens of thousands of Starfleet officers on the planet at this very moment that she could ask? Yeah, not likely at all. And didn't that just put it all in perspective. Was she banking on my supposed Augment arrogance to justify picking me over the probably thousands of other who were more qualified?

Another issue was that I hadn't come to Risa for that kind of thing. I was far more eager to get to know the natives, _intimately_. However, I also wasn't on any kind of deadline so I could go be a spy and then have my fun, assuming it didn't kill me in the process.

The more I thought about it, though, the more the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place, including this Intelligence operative who had far too good of a psychographic profile on me and my likely responses. There was a good chance, _a very good chance_ , that this was actually a Section 31 operation, meant to test me in some manner, likely to determine if I was a threat to the Federation, possibly even because of my recent actions and the intense training I'd put myself through. Unlike Starfleet Intelligence, that organization was proactive in identifying and dealing with threats, and wasn't above doing things like making people disappear if they saw a threat to the Federation. Which meant not cooperating now, when it would supposedly help the Federation, might be very unwise as I could suddenly be considered a threat or face much, much greater scrutiny. Both were outcomes I'd like to avoid if at all possible.

"We'll need a cover, won't we?" I wondered aloud; my decision made.

While I'd read about fictional spies on missions and seen the James Bond films, I really had no idea how undercover operations _actually_ worked. Again, becoming an Augment didn't magically give me knowledge and experience that I didn't have before. I certainly had advantages and strengths I didn't before, and had spent a great deal of time training to pick up new skills, but I still needed to learn these things like anyone else. Being an Augment meant a much faster learning curve, but it was still a process I couldn't avoid. The neural interface on my ship offered a possible shortcut, but that was not something I'd tested or fully thought out yet.

"We are a newly married couple," Natalie Romanov informed me, "here on Risa for our honeymoon."

Either this had all been planned well in advance, which wouldn't surprise me a bit, or she was making everything up as she went along based on my answers and reactions.

"Well, then you'd best tell me the rest of the plan," I said, resigned to going through with this farce.

Which was exactly what she did once she had taken out a small computer and had switched it on. Soon a map filled the screen, dots indicating where the man, whose name I still hadn't been told, had been meeting with suspected Orion Syndicate operatives. I couldn't help but notice that the locations were all near various weather control substations.

"All the casinos he's been spotted in are near weather control substations, quite a coincidence," I said. "Let me guess, this man used to work in weather control before he suddenly got super rich."

A moment of surprise flashed across her face before it was quickly wiped away. A file was then brought up which gave me the man's name, which was Jason Leeds, and that he'd come from a colony world I'd never even heard of. He had, though, worked at a few different weather control stations on the world of his birth.

"They're tapping into the weather control net," Natalie informed me. "With the right technology they could target a specific location with, say, a thousand lightning strikes, or an earthquake, or even a flood, or worse, a tsunami."

Indeed, these Syndicate people could do a lot of damage if they somehow took control of the weather on this planet, even hold this planet and all its many visitors hostage. I think I remembered a TNG episode that played out _exactly_ like this, but in that case they were just making a political statement rather than anything truly nefarious. Probably why Section 31 hadn't stopped it before it happened. Those kinds of groups probably never even made their radar, not when there were some hardcore criminal/evil organizations out there, or foreign powers, who wanted to do real damage to the Federation and her allies.

"With residents and alien tourists from all over the quadrant unable to escape the planet, due to threats of storms or unstable weather, they could effectively hold the entire planet ransom," Natalie explained. "The political implications alone are staggering."

Not to mention the effect it would have on trade, and in all the chaos it would be very easy for all sorts of crimes to take place as what law enforcement there was on this planet, assuming there was any at all, would be too busy trying to keep order to deal with any criminals with control of a weapon of mass destruction. There was probably some overly complex plan at work in the background, one that holding Risa hostage like this played only a small part of, most likely as part of some big distraction to hide their true purpose. Everything from the shows indicated the Orion Syndicate was an incredibly sophisticated organization, both subtle and incredibly effective in their actions to have survived as long as they had. This whole thing struck me as over the top and out of character for them.

"Our best analysts suspect that it will happen soon," the agent added, "and just as we feared."

If this was real, then someone did need to act to stop it, just not me! Unfortunately, I didn't really have much of a choice. Even if this was all an act, or an elaborate test, not playing the part of a hero willing to protect the Federation had dangers all its own. No, sometimes it was best to not buck expectations.

"So, either we need to find this Leeds and 'ask him' what he's doing," I suggested. "Or we need to break into his hotel room and look for clues. Maybe he's got a computer we can hack into?"

Natalie smiled.

"Funny you should suggest breaking into places," she said. "That's exactly what I had in mind."

I knew that no matter what happened in the next few days, things were going to be very interesting. Hopefully in a good way.

**XXXXX**

**Author's Note:**

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**Chapter 10: 15,931 words**

**Chapter 11: 20,500 words**

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[i] Vulcan Language Dictionary (VLD), Compiled by Selek from Vulcan Language Institute, Marketa Z., Star Trek episodes and Movies. See www. starbase-10. de/vld/


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing related to or part of Star Trek. This fan fiction was written purely for fun.

**Author's Note:**

Sorry for the slight delay in posting guys. I got a new job and started it recently, my wife and I moved out of our old home this past weekend, and then we purchased a new home today, so it's been a hella stressful last few weeks. Thankfully, that's behind us, mostly. Enjoy the chapter!

**The Adventures of Augment Gothic**

**"** **We also have to work, though, sort of the dark side, if you will. We've got to spend time in the shadows in the intelligence world. A lot of what needs to be done here will have to be done quietly, without any discussion, using sources and methods that are available to our intelligence agencies... That's the world these folks operate in, and so it's going to be vital for us to use any means at our disposal, basically, to achieve our objective.** **"** **-** **Dick Cheney** **, unknowingly speaking about Section 31**

**"** **People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf." – George Orwell (a lot of debate says this was something he never said or wrote, and is probably more a creative product of the first person who ever used it, but hey, it's part of the cultural zeitgeist now)**

**Chapter 10 –**

**Augment Gothic 5**

**Resort. Planet Risa.**

When night came, I found myself outside another Risian hotel, one that was not too far from the resort I was currently staying in. I had closely surveyed the area earlier, during the light of day, carefully observing the surroundings, the people both staying there and working there, and the building's layout, playing the part of another human on Risa. I had found nothing out of the ordinary, but spy girl was certain that this was the right hotel so here we were trying to break into it like a couple of ol' timey burglars.

I kept my eyes constantly scanning for anything out of the ordinary while this took place. Which was easy for me as one of the benefits of my genetic enhancements involved an increased visual acuity and memory. A single glance was all it took, no tricorder or advanced sensor equipment was necessary, but the world seldom stayed the same for long. So, I was able to easily tell that there was no special security here, such as armed guards on a rotating patrol or advanced security sensors. From the outside, this appeared to be just another nice hotel, on a planet already practically littered with them. But I knew that it really wasn't. If Natalie worked for who I was almost certain she worked for, that organization just didn't make mistakes like that.

A whispered expletive, one which somehow defied the universal translator's ability to translate, made me quickly turn around to face Natalie. Immediately, I noticed that she was now sporting a rather pronounced frown on her pretty face. The woman then shook her head and straightened up.

"This is going to take longer than I thought," she muttered while looking around slowly, likely deciding which was the best alternate point of entry. "This is not a normal lock. It's actually a pretty complex bit of technology."

The lock itself was a dead giveaway that this was no ordinary Risian hotel, even if in every other way it looked to be perfectly normal. No one on Risa _ever_ closed or locked a door unless they wanted privacy, certainly never using a complex lock like this, their building design reflecting that philosophy. Typically, a door was only closed because the Risian's alien partner requested it, because everything the natives had was freely given. Telling people as such was even part of their standard cultural greeting!

It had, again, been a pretty fascinating experience overall to find room doors wide open in my hotel with the sounds of wild sex taking place inside, the moans of pleasure and clapping of flesh on flesh making it patently obvious what was taking place. As I had found out during my study of their culture, in a book written by a two-hundred-year-old Vulcan sociologist of all people, an open door like that was essentially an invitation to watch, at a minimum, and possibly even participate if the people in the room invited you in. Being as shameless as I was, I had, of course, stopped outside and looked in on several rooms. Modern humans didn't often do this I'd learned. I was rather proud of being shameless as fuck!

I must have looked attractive enough to many because the Risians and their alien partners often invited me in to watch more closely or join the fucking taking place with big welcoming smiles on their face. The experience was so surreal I said 'fuck it', and had taken a seat to watch a couple of beautiful blonde Risian women, and one Risian man, render a human woman near catatonic with pleasure, the man ramming his cock into the woman, while the two Risian women feasted on her breasts and lips. Good for her, I thought, chuckling internally.

I was really getting a kick out of this fascinating planet and culture. There was just a whole lot of good vibes here, a spirit of uninhibited freedom of choice with little in the way of taboo. This was the really interesting stuff that could never appear in a network television show. Admittedly, I was very tempted to join in, but if there was going to be an orgy my dick would be the only one in the room. Call me prudish if you will, but I knew what I liked and what my limits were.

Anyways, a lock this advanced was not normal on Risa and was almost certainly an add-on by a non-native. It suggested that the people staying at or running this hotel had something valuable enough or important enough to protect, even going so far as to violate norms in such an obvious way on this incredibly peaceful planet.

"I could break down the door, but someone would likely notice that," I offered. "Is the lock connected to any kind of alarm or central monitoring system?" I asked.

She scanned the lock once again with a tricorder. "No, the lock is advanced, but it's only stopping this door from opening. I can't risk a phaser, if that's what you're suggesting," she answered, sounding annoyed. "The energy discharge would almost certainly be picked up."

"That's not what I meant," I snarked back. "You Starfleet folks see an advanced locking device and your first thought is 'How do I hack this device, because I'm so smart and can't resist a challenge? Hold on, let me mess around with my tricorder' beep, beep, boop, boop.'" At the end there I started mimicking tapping on a tricorder with a seriously over-the-top look of concentration on my face. I'd seen shit like this happen on the show, _a lot_. Coming up with some stupidly complex solution when there was a much simpler answer readily available.

I received quite a dirty look in response. "If you have a better idea, I'd love to hear it," she gritted out angrily.

"As a matter of fact, I do," I said, with a smirk, before my hand shot forward with the speed of a striking viper and poked the lock with my index and middle finger, the lock itself separating from the door like I had just shot it with a pneumatic bolt gun. The door, now without a lock to keep it closed, lazily opened a few inches. Five times normal human strength was nothing to joke about.

Natalie's mouth dropped a tiny bit in shock, before she recovered her calm.

"That lock might have been high tech, but that doesn't mean it or the door it's set in, is all that sturdy. Oftentimes the simplest solution is the best solution."

I'm glad that worked because I'd have been really fucking embarrassed otherwise; I had actually seen that in a movie once and the villain in that movie hadn't just used his fingers.

"If you were trying to impress me, you've certainly succeeded," the agent said once we were inside. Whether she was impressed by my physical strength, or my outside the box thinking, or both, was a mystery to me, but hey, I'd take it.

I suppose my plan had always been to impress the ladies while on this planet, having come to Risa to get laid and have a good time. And why not? If you were suddenly made the pinnacle of the human form, going from a solid 6, or a generous 7, to an impossible 15 all of a sudden, you'd do it too. Of course, 'impressing women,' on Risa, was a bit like fishing with dynamite, not really needed and probably overkill. This was a pleasure planet filled with a species that would make love at the drop of a hat. Finding willing bed partners was as easy as expressing even the slightest interest, but I still felt the desire to show off around pretty women. That was just part of my personality and probably some hardcoded instinct in my DNA that I had no desire to fight anyways. In this case, while I wasn't trying to impress a woman enough to convince them to sleep with me, I was likely being tested, which meant I needed to make a good showing of my skills and abilities.

My life and freedom might actually depend on it.

"Glad to hear it," I replied, and I was actually.

Natalie put her now unneeded futuristic lockpick back in her bag, and then pulled out a Type-2 Federation/Starfleet hand phaser which she passed to me. Weapons were, of course, entirely illegal on Risa for anyone to possess. Even Starfleet officers vacationing here were not allowed to possess weapons on the planet when not required to in the course of their official duties, or if they had a special dispensation. You could have weapons on your ship, of course, but they had to stay onboard when visiting the planet.

"It's already set on stun," she explained to me, now sounding condescending. Or was it patronizing? "So, don't fiddle with the settings; just point it in the direction of the bad guys and press the activator."

Should I be insulted at her dumbing things down for me? It really didn't make much sense. My Class-1 weapons' license was a matter of public record and part of my identity profile. Was she trying to stay in character by pretending to act like she hadn't done her homework on me? Like recruiting me had just been a matter of happenstance? Or was she gauging my reaction, trying to see how I'd react to something that could be considered insulting or condescending? Or maybe trying to see if I would actually take her direction?

Sigh…dealing with spies was exhausting. Overthinking things, trying to sniff out deception and double/triple/quadruple meanings, hidden motives and agendas in every word or gesture or look, was annoying as fuck.

If this was a Hollywood movie from my time, I'd be handed the weapon and in response to her condescending words I'd expertly remove a clip and then loudly reinsert it, or rack a slide, or partially field strip it, or do something equally dramatic and showy to show my masterful competency with guns…or how much of a badass I was…or my machismo, whatever.

Unfortunately, that just wasn't an option with a Type-2 phaser's simple design. Sure, I could dramatically turn it on, maybe even remove the power cell unnecessarily when there already was a power readout, but that hardly seemed the same. Like most things that were designed to be used by people with varying levels of knowledge, the designers had attempted (and largely succeeded in my opinion) to make it pretty intuitive in its usage. Even a novice who had never fired a phaser before in their life likely wouldn't find it all that hard to figure out with just a tiny bit of thought, even in the chaos of actual combat. Their marksmanship would likely be shit, but how good a shot did you need to be at close range? I had plenty of issues with the design of this weapon, finding it ridiculous for many good and practical reasons, but admittedly it was a very intuitive and simple to use design.

"I have a Class-1 weapon's license, Natalie, with a perfect marksmanship score. I could probably vaporize a terran house fly at 30 feet, mid-flight, narrow beam," I responded with no emotion in my voice.

"Follow me," Natalie instructed as she moved on stealthily, ignoring my words.

I kept my gaze sharp as we entered the hotel through a service entrance and headed directly for a turbolift that would take us to one of the upper levels. We moved as slowly and as carefully as we could, in the hopes of minimizing the sound of our footsteps. The thick purple carpet helped a lot with that.

Before long we arrived at a turbolift. I watched as Natalie placed something on the control-pad and then flinched when a loud beep echoed in the area we were in.

After a minute of complete silence, we breathed a joint sigh of relief. No one had heard the turbolift being called, or if they had they didn't care that was someone was using it so late at night.

The doors opened Natalie and I moved quickly inside the lift. When the doors fully closed, she pulled out her tricorder and studied it for several long moments.

"Are you scanning for lifeforms?" I asked.

Natalie frowned at her device in concern before looking at me to answer.

"There's nothing," she told me. "I can't detect anyone."

That didn't mean the hotel was empty, by any means, as there were a myriad number of ways to hide life signs in the shows. So, it stood to reason that criminals who wished to hide could easily find a way to shield their life signs using technology. However, they would only do that if they thought someone was going to actively scan for them.

"They know they're being watched, don't they?" I asked.

She nodded, and put the tricorder away. Then she changed the settings on her phaser. Even if I hadn't been looking, I knew the sounds a Type-2 phaser made. She had just set it to kill, though not vaporize, as that was stupidly energy intensive and overkill 99% of the time. That action alone, beyond anything else she'd said and done so far, convinced me that it was highly unlikely she was a Starfleet Intelligence agent. I'd pretty much ruled it out already, but this act alone sealed the deal for me. The odds of her being a Section 31 agent went way, way up with that action alone.

"The good news is that they won't know how many of us there are," the agent told me. "Whatever they're doing to shield from scans is hiding our life signs as well."

That was something at least.

"Be ready," she said, a cold game face coming up, as if a switch had been flipped, making her appear far more dangerous and deadly. Those were the cold, dead eyes of an experienced killer. I'd seen eyes like those many times before in Iraq and Afghanistan, in the faces of special forces operators prior to going out on dangerous missions or clearing villages and the danger level was super high. In that moment, I just knew that this woman was no stranger to combat and killing.

Natalie pressed the button for the third floor and we both moved to stand at either end of the door, out of view of the parting doors, and for a seemingly long moment we met each other's gaze. The lift soon reached the requested floor. Another ding sounded and I raised my weapon into a ready position as the doors began to open.

When the doors opened, I saw at least four humanoid shaped beings in the dim light. They had obviously noticed the open lift as a mere heartbeat later a bright fluorescent green beam of energy shot out and hit the rear of the lift, gouging a deep, half melted divot in the metal's surface. That weapon was definitely not set on stun, so in the next moment, without even looking, my thumb adjusted the setting on my own phaser to kill. I was taking no chances with people trying to kill me. If they were trying to kill me, I would respond in kind.

Spy lady and I responded by opening fire, she shooting high, while I shot low. Through a combination of surprise and our combined fire we quickly dropped the beings.

"Spread out," the agent ordered quietly. "We need to clear this whole floor."

Since her tricorder was purposely blocked, I did it the old-fashioned way, stopping her from leaving the lift. My Augment senses were not something that could be so easily blocked, so after twenty seconds of intensely looking, listening, and even smelling the air, I concluded that there was no one else here.

With another attack not forthcoming, I approached the bodies on the ground and knelt next to them, taking the time to surreptitiously loot the corpses of the humanoids we'd just killed, while Natalie did whatever the fuck she was doing. Their bodies provided a nice haul; finding several dozen strips of latinum, even a few bars, a few alien tricorders, _I think_ , and their unusual weapons, including a couple of blades. Since I wasn't a ridiculous hippy wearing a unisuit, I had plenty of space in my pockets for my victory loot. It'd be fun to learn all about the tech I'd picked up, comparing it to the technology I'd already studied in depth. Each race did things a little differently, sometimes better, sometimes worse, and I wanted to learn every trick I could. Anything that wasn't really useful enough to keep on hand could be taken apart for spare parts or sold later on.

When I finally returned to Natalie's side, I found that she was intensely scanning one of the computer consoles with her tricorder. After a few moments of interpreting her scans, she knelt beside it, and took a panel off the machine so that she could rummage around inside it.

"What are you doing?" I inquired.

There had only been fours guards on this level, but there could be dozens more on the others. If there was an automated alarm or any one of these fools set one off, we could easily be overwhelmed, so we had no time to mess about. That might have been a bit hypocritical on my part since I had spent a little less than a minute or so looting bodies, but hey, waste not, want not! And, besides, my looting hadn't slowed Natalie down from whatever the fuck her mission was.

"Just stand guard and watch my back," she ordered smoothly and coldly, not taking her eyes off her current task for even a moment. The shy, novice, Starfleet Intelligence agent persona _was long fucking gone_ , only to be replaced by a cold, ruthless professional, hyper focused on the mission.

I would have talked to her more, but suddenly I was ducking to avoid a bright green disruptor bolt. I rolled into the room like a freaking acrobat and returned precision fire. This action killed an alien who looked like a bald human, only he had totally green skin and was very muscular. I'd seen an alien just like this in an episode of Star Trek: Enterprise, ironically, one of the episodes in the arc which introduced Augments into the Star Trek universe for the first time. This was an Orion male.

Then _eight_ more such people suddenly appeared by transporter and I fired off three precision shots of ruby red energy at center mass, the instant the materialization was complete, in quick succession, dropping three targets. These were sentient beings that would likely never get up again. The other five immediately scrambled for cover, obviously unused to combat fire this fast and precise, or perhaps not expecting this level of ruthlessness from a human or maybe a Starfleet officer. A proper and moral and holier than thou Starfleet officer probably would have waited for them to fire first, thus ensuring that they were proper combatants, even though the chances that they were random innocent civilians was laughably low.

All my memories from various firefights in the various shows told me that I was definitely doing things a bit better than was normal. With my incredible hand/eye coordination and fast reflexes, I was shooting back much faster and more precisely than a baseline human ever could. While I was stuck using this ridiculous weapon that only fired a continuous beam of bright red energy, my target identification was first rate, with not a wasted iota of movement when moving from one target to another. In fact, I kind of wished I had a second phaser. Being naturally ambidextrous was part of the Augment improvement package I'd received.

"Whatever you're doing, do it fast!" I yelled to the agent over the sound of more disruptor fire.

In military parlance, what I was doing was laying down 'covering fire', which is when you are firing at the enemy to allow your own troops to do something. In this case, I was preventing these last five Orions from stopping Natalie's work, whatever the fuck that was. My marksmanship had essentially pinned these Orions down, reducing their numbers as the opportunity presented itself, and prevented them advancing on us, but I had to remain mostly in one position to ensure Natalie remained defended.

As one of the Orions popped up to take a clear shot at me, I shot him right in the head, his dead body limply falling back amongst his compatriots. That wasn't something you saw in the show! Thankfully, the remaining four Orions were rather shocked at their friend's sudden demise and stayed crouched behind a couple of pillars, taking pot shots at me by sticking their hands around the corner and firing wildly.

This was fun! In fact, I found myself rather tempted to jump in their midst and go hand-to-hand. I rather distractingly also found myself wondering if I was strong enough to punch a hole in someone's chest with pure strength alone, like in a monster movie. If I got right up in their faces, my speed would likely mean they shot each other trying to get to me. However, I successfully resisted the urge to do that, as it would mean leaving spy girl alone and right now she couldn't protect herself while working.

"Buy me some more time!" the spy ordered.

Apparently, there were even more of the bad guys in the hotel, and this was proven when someone started shooting at me from the _other_ direction. This meant that if I stepped out into the corridor, I'd very likely be cut down by the sheer amount of weapons' fire out there, now coming from multiple directions. Even an Augment like me wouldn't survive.

However, since I had superior reflexes, I was able to keep the enemy at bay, at least for a short time, eliminating targets of opportunity. In fact, I was able to duck my head into the corridor for a split second, make note of where everyone was, and then shoot one of them so fast that by the time the bad guys had pulled the triggers of their weapons I was already back inside the safety of the room.

"Natalie!" I shouted. "I can't do this forever!"

At some point they'd gather their courage and either charge as a group or one of them would just get lucky and hit me. No matter how badass you were, a lucky shot could take anyone out.

If anyone in this galaxy had any brains in their fucking skulls, they'd have grenades for situations just like this. Thinking that made me realize that some sort of stun grenade would come in handy in my future adventures and I should go about designing such a thing, and ideally one that required no exotic materials and thus could be easily replicated.

But why even stop at stun grenades? My time had _many_ types of grenades for different situations, like deadly high explosive and fragmentation anti-personnel grenades, incendiary grenades, flash grenades for clearing rooms, smoke grenades for cover, chemical grenades to release aerosolized compounds, both lethal and non-lethal… The uses were many. I could even improve them with the technology available in this time. Several grenades from video games had an ability to "stick" to targets or to even self-propel and home in on selected targets. It probably wouldn't even be that hard with modern design computer and replication. I was getting excited!

"Just a few more seconds," sexy agent babe called out. "Keep covering me!"

I sighed in exasperation and went about shooting some more people; this was certainly getting me some real combat experience in the 24th century. When I had a second of rest while they were shooting, I stole a glance behind me and saw spy lady taking _something_ out of the console. Which she put inside her padded and shielded bag.

Then there was no time for more looking at her as now there were _even more_ lime green people heading our way and they were all firing like mad, obviously aware that we'd taken something pretty damn important. I knew right then and there that I if I didn't _do something,_ quick, then we would both die, so I fired upon a couple Orions rushing our position with the phaser in my left, but grabbed Natalie's phaser with my right and blasted a nearby window away.

Next, I grabbed the agent and jumped out the now 'open' window while carrying her fireman style. Naturally, she screamed the whole way down, she even kept screaming when we landed in a swimming pool. From that height we hit the bottom of the pool pretty quickly, but my bending knees absorbed the impact for the both of us. Better her than me, as I was far more durable.

Landing in the pool was no stroke of luck, though. Before setting foot in this place, I'd carefully scouted the building and its perimeter taking note of all its important features and locking them in my now perfect memory. The idea of jumping out a high window, plummeting three floors down into a pool to make a daring escape from a pitched battle, well, it had occurred to me even then, but I, of course, dismissed that as being too silly to even contemplate! This universe was really dramatic.

"Are you all right?" I asked, the phasers in each of my hands pointing unerringly at the window we'd just jumped out of, my hands steady, each thumb ready to depress the fire/activation button. If one of these green fuckers stuck their heads out, I was going to shoot them right in their green fucking faces. Luckily, at this time of night, there was no one in the immediate vicinity or in the pool, though I could hear people having fun semi-nearby.

She let out a wet sounding cough before replying, obviously having swallowed a bit of water when we'd been temporarily submerged.

"I'm all right, Gothic, let's go. They're not going to take a shot at us through the window," she assured me tiredly, as we swum to the side and hoisted ourselves out, our waterlogged clothes dripping onto the ground.

She was right, no one was shooting at us now, they hadn't even taken a look out the window I'd just broken, and that made sense, since the people inside the hotel obviously didn't want the people of Risa to know that they were here. Blasting us with energy weapons, right out in the open, would have ruined their cover and brought far more 'official' attention, once I realized that they likely had no idea who we actually were. A two-person team breaking into their hotel, ruthlessly killing many of their men, and stealing their technology, didn't exactly sound like typical Federation/Starfleet behavior. We could be rival criminals or thieves for all they knew.

Once out of the pool I quickly started to strip, taking off my shirt, shoes and shorts, throwing them into a nearby recycling can, leaving me in nothing but skintight soaking wet boxer briefs which could easily be mistaken for swimwear.

"What are you doing?!" Natalie asked quietly, looking surprised.

"Trying to look like we didn't just break into a hotel, kill a bunch of Orions, and steal their technology," I answered, putting my arm around her, looking her dead in the eye and putting a fake smile on my face and laughing a fake laugh, before giving her a loving kiss. "So why don't you get with the program and start looking like a couple of people having a great time vacationing on Risa who went for a midnight swim. And less like a ruthless intelligence operative who just jumped out of building and into a pool with all her clothes on."

It took only a moment of thought before she obviously saw the merit in my plan and quickly divested herself of her shirt, pants, and shoes, leaving her in some rather lacy and wetly transparent black underwear that could pass for a racy swimsuit if you didn't look too closely.

"Let's head back to our room, honey, I'm suddenly feeling very horny!" I said semi-loudly. Even the little bag she was carrying could easily double as something to hold our things while we took a swim. I quickly stashed the two phasers back in the bag.

Natalie responded with a giggle of all things, pulling herself into my side, her hand groping my ass. She might not have come up with this impromptu bit of social camouflage but it hadn't taken her long to get into the spirit of the thing. She was even nibbling on my ear now!

It was best we left the area as quickly and as non-suspiciously as possible, though. Just because they wouldn't shoot at us in public didn't mean that they wouldn't come after us with knives or something silent like that.

**XXXXX**

**Hotel. Risa.**

Once we were back at the hotel Natalie had brought us to before this little misadventure started, the one not full of people who wanted to kill us, we headed for Natalie's room. Understandably, I had some questions.

"So, did you achieve your objective?" I asked, both of us still in our wet underwear.

I understood that certain things were 'need to know', but I'd been under the distinct impression that we'd gone to that hotel in order to get data, not an item, and we certainly weren't supposed to get into a pitched life and death battle with a few dozen aliens. Natalie had taken something from the Orions.

"Was anything you told me true?" I asked. "Do you actually work for Starfleet Intelligence? Were the Orions even planning anything or did we just steal some bit of tech that rightfully belongs to them?"

Again, she didn't answer, just looking at me intently.

"You know if I were a cynical man, I would say you enjoy keeping things from me," I said next, getting rather pissed off. After I had just risked my life, FOR FREE, you'd think I deserved some answers.

The agent spent a moment looking out the window before replying to me.

"Well, it's standard procedure," she told me, her tone now different. This was the voice she'd used on the mission, not the one she'd spoken to me in before. It was somehow colder, smoother, more focused. "What you don't know you can't tell the enemy."

That was a fair point.

"Plus, you don't trust me with the information, even though _you_ asked _me_ for help and put my life at risk," I said.

She shook her head which made her red hair wave about just a little.

"Not particularly," she confirmed, not a hint of shame on her face.

That was okay, I didn't trust her either, however that didn't stop me from kissing her back when she suddenly lunged forward and began to kiss me, her tongue wrestling with mine, her right hand reaching into my underwear and gently stroking my cock to aching hardness. What _did_ stop me, though, was the sudden pain I felt when something jabbed me in the neck.

"Hopefully you're not immune to sedatives," the agent calmly said as she quickly backed away from me by at least six feet, obviously not wanting to be within my reach if I had any fight left in me. The room began to spin, yet I could still make out that her middle finger was sporting some kind of micro-hypospray device. The crazy shit these spies come up with. "I gave you enough sedatives to knock out three burly Klingons in less than two seconds. It's amazing you're still even standing. Augments are a scary bunch, aren't they? No wonder they're interested in you."

While my heart and head screamed its unrelenting defiance to the universe, wanting to reach out and snap this bitch's little neck, I didn't remain standing for much longer, unfortunately. The last thing I saw was the very nice and rather plush carpet rushing up towards me, though it did make for a soft landing before there was only darkness.

The Risian hospitality industry was really first rate.

**XXXXX**

**Unknown Location.**

While still groggy, my body obviously continuing to burn the sedative out of my system, I still had the presence of mind to remain utterly still upon regaining consciousness, my breathing and heartrate kept the same through sheer force of will. Yes, that was possible as an Augment.

With any luck I'd be able to gather some much-needed information before my captors realized that I was now awake and aware. With anyone else, anyone _normal_ that is, the computer would likely be able to tell them the exact moment a captive should awaken after being drugged. Medical technology was that advanced in this time. With my Augment physiology and capabilities still largely an unknown, my hope was that they wouldn't really know when I _should_ regain consciousness, thus giving me valuable time to think, gather intel, and plan my escape. Of course, that plan went right out the window nearly instantly.

"I am impressed. For someone with no formal training for a situation like this, you show amazing instincts. Good effort, truly! Unfortunately, with the number of sensors trained on you at the moment, even your amazing control over your body can not hide your regaining consciousness, even though it is a full 1 hour and 22 minutes sooner than projected," a somewhat familiar voice said.

Well, if the jig was up, there was no point in pretending anymore. Upon opening my eyes and sitting up quickly, I found myself in a painfully _plain_ room, a room with drab grey walls and no other distinguishing features. I was even lying on a grey biobed, still in my boxer briefs. There were no other medical things around so I assumed that this wasn't a hospital, and I also assumed the man, a human, sitting on a chair at the end of the bed watching me silently was _not_ a doctor. He looked really familiar though. I took in everything, straining my senses to the max, even cataloging all the scents in the room. The man just patiently waited, looking as placid as a still mountain lake.

"Hello," the man said genially, like I hadn't just been drugged, taken captive, and was now waking up in a prison, as far as I could tell. It was just so normal, so _pleasant_. "My name is Sloan. I'm a member of a secret intelligence organization known only as Section 31, and we'd like to _recruit_ you."

That's why he looked so familiar, but why hadn't I recognized him _instantly_? Was this more shenanigans from my Godly patron? This was the very same man who had, in the Deep Space Nine series, worked with and sometimes against, Doctor Julian Bashir. In fact, he was the only confirmed Section 31 agent we ever saw outside of a dream in the entire DS9 series. This man had the same blue eyes, light brown hair in a rather boring haircut, the same average craggy face. This whole situation was just so fucking familiar, right down to the man sitting in a chair, hands steepled in front of his mouth. The shows were spot on this time, he was even wearing the same semi-ridiculous full body black leather outfit which made him look like some kind of villain from a comic book. Somehow, he made it work though.

"Errr, okay," I replied. Sue me, I had just been sedated with enough drugs to knock out multiple Klingons.

I'd already suspected that Natalie was a Section 31 agent and that this whole thing had been one giant setup. I had been right, though I didn't feel particularly smug about figuring her out at the moment. She had managed to get the drop on super human me. I'll say it again, being a super Augment didn't make me freaking invincible like superman.

"All right. I…I am-" Was all that came out of my mouth.

My body didn't seem to be quite as awake as my mind was. I had tried to say something a bit more complex, only it hadn't come out correctly.

"You passed our interview," Sloan continued, giving me time to recover, graciously ignoring my post-sedation nonsense speech. "You should be proud of yourself, not everyone does so well when we throw them into such a dangerous situation."

After a few more moments I found I was able to speak with more precision.

"Before you say another word," I told this spy. "You're going to tell me exactly what happened here, where I am, what exactly it was that Natalie salvaged from that console, and exactly what 'Section 31' is."

To my surprise he answered right away, with practically no prevarication as far as I could tell. His heart rate was as regular as a metronome to my ears. The man had a poker face a professional gambler would envy.

"First, most of what my agent told you was true," Sloan answered. "The Orion Syndicate _was_ going to tap into and take control of the weather control system on this planet. Second, you are still on Risa. Third, that device that you helped recover was an important piece of technology that would have allowed them to take complete control of the weather control system and thus everything here on Risa. Now it's ours, and since they can't replace it, at least not on short notice, their plan is ruined and countermeasures are already being developed to prevent something like it from working again. Not that it ever had a chance of being successful. We had several agents in place ready to do what was required of them to protect a Federation world. It's a rather ingenious piece of technology actually; we'll find a use for it I'm sure. Finally, Section 31 is an officially-nonexistent and autonomous clandestine intelligence organization dedicated to the defense of the Federation. We were created out of the original Starfleet Charter, Article 14, Section 31, which allows for extraordinary measures to be taken in times of extreme threat. In overly simplified terms, Section 31 deals with the threats to the Federation that others do not even realize exist and that jeopardize the Federation's very survival," Sloan explained, a touch of passion in his voice for just a tiny moment.

Well, that was pretty much the recruiting speech that Sloan had given Bashir. I'll give him points for being consistent. I already knew that Section 31 was _the_ secret organization, always hidden in the shadows, with a bloody dagger in their hands, secretly keeping this grand experiment from falling apart from threats within and without. While Bashir railed at the idea of a virtually autonomous organization with practically no accountability or oversight, I had not grown up in this time.

Yes, it wasn't ideal and Section 31 probably had numerous instances in their secret history where folks had gone rouge with unchecked power, but I recognized how utterly necessary they were to the Federation's continued survival, especially when this hippy attitude persisted that everyone would get along and eventually all planets would join one day, once they wised up and recognized the rightness and glory of the United Federation of Planets. They were also desperately needed to combat and directly counter ruthless organizations their peer nations had, like the Romulans' Tal Shiar and the Cardassians' Obsidian Order and so on. Starfleet just didn't have the ability or the heart to fight those kinds of monsters, to fight _that_ kind of enemy you needed _monsters_ of your own.

Assuming, again, that that was all true, then I was still on Risa. Which meant that if I broke out, I likely wouldn't find myself trapped onboard a starship in orbit with practically zero chance of successful escape. Even now, I couldn't detect the hum of a ship's plasma distribution network or active engines, which suggested Sloan was telling the truth, but that could be explained. Not that I wanted to break out, though. Even if I somehow managed it, which I sincerely doubted, I knew that Section 31 wouldn't simply let me go. They had to have teams of operatives already in place if they were comfortable enough to use the situation with the Orions as part of a recruitment test for me. A test that I could have easily failed. In fact, I heard multiple excited heartbeats and the hum of active energy weapons just outside the door to this room. If I made a single hostile move, I had no doubt that Sloan would be immediately beamed out and the bad men with guns would come running in, ready to do violence.

"Let me guess," I said. "If I say 'no' then I won't leave here alive."

Despite being a so called 'super human', I wasn't that dangerous in the grand scheme of things. There were plenty of easy ways to kill me. For example, I could easily be beamed into space, or killed by transporter 'accident', or shot by a sniper from a great distance, or they could just blow me up with a bomb, etc. The list went on and on. Being an Augment would not help me survive stuff like that, though there were steps that I could take to help mitigate those risks. I already had plans in mind for my advanced personal armor to protect me from forced beaming and being shot. My personal shield should stop several energy bolts and might even help with the bomb too. Sigh…it might stop the destructive direct energy, from a weapon, but what about the pressure damage from an explosive? Fuck, I'd have to run some simulations to check on that. Again, being an Augment meant I was fucking smart, like crazy smart, but I wasn't all knowing.

"Of course not," Sloan replied pleasantly, that genial smile on his face never dropping. "Letting you go poses no risk to us. You have no evidence that anything actually happened on this planet and we've already cleaned up the Syndicate presence in that hotel. Even the latinum and equipment you, _liberated,_ from those men you killed in the hotel, which you're welcome to keep by the way, doesn't prove anything. And even if you did have evidence and reported all this, no one would believe you. Augments simply aren't trusted."

That did make sense. Nice of him, I suppose, to let me keep my loot too.

"Besides," he went on to say. "There's always a chance that you could change your mind later. I don't think it would take all that long really. Life on Earth must be very dull for someone like you."

Again, he made a lot of sense.

"Why me? Is it just because I'm an Augment?" I asked plainly. I had my suspicions, but wanted to hear how he'd answer.

"I'm glad you asked," he answered. "Just as you have suspected, you have been under surveillance since the moment you showed up on the _Enterprise._ You did not know we specifically existed, but you knew you were being carefully monitored, we could tell. You had no illusions; you knew that you were being watched to determine if you were a threat. That was rather refreshing to find in a human born on Earth, even if in another dimension, someone who intrinsically recognized a nation state needs to protect itself. In fact, you have gone out of your way to be as transparent as possible, like going to Picard and asking for his permission to use those holodeck training programs, or securing the correct licenses to own weapons and pilot a starship."

"I would have thought those things would make you wary of me, rather than interested," I questioned, not bothering to deny his words.

"As I said, it was more refreshing than worrying. Your ambition and drive to improve yourself and learn about this time have surpassed our expectations. Our most optimistic projections suggested it would be 5-10 years before you settled in this time and learned all the technology and skills you would need to be useful to us. Our organization has some regrettable experience working with Augments of your level of…modification, but your focused drive and ambition, coupled with an unexpected control of your base impulses and emotions moved up this recruitment test years earlier than expected. Beyond your obvious physical and mental genetic enhancements, you have a certain moral flexibility we liked, a more pragmatic view of this galaxy and a willingness and ability to see the cracks in the façade, as it were."

Now that was interesting. "My arrogance and megalomania were more in the normal range, you mean, rather than super enhanced to insane levels, like the rest of me?" I joked, before settling into thoughtful silence.

"You realize that it's an open and unsettled question of law whether I am even a Federation citizen at all, human or not?" I asked, looking at him pointedly. "I'm not even sure I want to keep my Federation citizenship long-term or even live on a Federation world. In fact, it appeals to me more and more to find some unaffiliated world somewhere and set up shop."

This was a calculated risk. Sharing my feelings and future plans so candidly, even as vague as they were right now, might be dangerous to me. They'd know my loyalties weren't absolute to the Federation nor that I even intended to build a life on a Federation world. That being said, my time in the Army had time and time again taught me the value of preparing my superiors for bad or unwelcome or unexpected news. Better to get the story out their first, on my terms, when I could control the narrative, rather than let them discover it on their own and come up with all kinds of insane worst-case scenarios.

I continued to share my thoughts in the best possible light.

"I believe in the Federation. I see its necessity and the good it does in a chaotic and uncaring galaxy. But unlike so many I've encountered on the _Enterprise_ and on Earth, my outsider perspective lets me be a lot more objective about it, to see its many, many flaws. If you're looking for someone to join the Cult of the Federation, as it were, I'm not your guy," I warned, carefully watching his reaction. The man must have had extensive training in keeping his micro expressions to a minimum because I couldn't see any. I wouldn't be surprised if all Section 31 agents even had training to resist telepathy.

"That is not a problem for us. We do not require our agents to drink the Federation 'Kool-Aid', as you put it once. The Federation is an imperfect nation, but the alternatives could be much, much worse for humanity and the many other races who are members. It has no divine right to exist in a hard, uncaring galaxy. We at Section 31 fight for its right to exist each and every day against threats that would chill even your blood," Sloan responded, pausing for a moment, like he was reaching into his memory. "I and many of my colleagues quite liked how you put it once, 'Freedom is not free, it is paid for with the blood of patriots.' We are merely asking you to fight for a new nation, even one you're not sure you want to be a part of, like you did in your nation's military, to be a patriot once more. But set all those high minded ideals aside for a moment, if you thirst for adventure, excitement, and wish to be paid or rewarded for your unique skills and hard work, we can provide that too."

Well, fuck me. I had always suspected/known I was being watched, both on the _Enterprise_ and on Earth, but to hear so many of my own words being parroted back to me really put things in perspective. Section 31 didn't fuck around and their psychographic profile was unnervingly accurate. No matter how good, though, it _couldn't_ take into account my future knowledge and how that was affecting my decision making and plans for the future. Thank God I had my own ship for privacy now. And thank God the sustained efforts I'd made to conceal certain things, like the design work I'd done to create new weapons and armor, _seemed_ to have remained unknown to them.

Sloan continued to wait in silence for a couple of minutes, content to give me time to digest his words, before speaking again.

"I strongly suspect that you'd outright reject an offer to join our organization as a full-time agent," Sloan said, getting a confirmatory nod from me. "So, the job I'm offering you is that of a freelance agent, or a contractor, whichever you prefer. We will offer you missions from time-to-time, ones that you're uniquely well suited for, and you'd be free to accept or decline, with no consequence to you. You'd go on missions for Section 31 only when you choose to, completely optional, and of course we'll find ways to compensate you appropriately for successful missions. As you've learned, we don't use or view money in the same way they did in your time, though we are capable of paying you in Federation credits or gold pressed latinum if you'd prefer. We could even provide compensation in alternative forms. Someone like you might benefit even more from certain technologies we have and can give you, technology that normal citizens don't normally have access to."

That did sound awfully appealing, and he was absolutely right, I didn't want to work full time for Section 31, or anyone for that matter. I would be my own boss and go on adventures of my choosing in this galaxy. If I didn't want to do something against my personal code or was way too dangerous/risky a mission, then I wouldn't. Section 31's psychographic profile on me was pretty damn accurate so far, so I doubted they'd try to offer me any missions that I'd absolutely refuse on principle.

"And, of course, if the mission allows for it, you'd be free to use your own ship," Sloan explained further. "We'll provide certain needed resources to assist you on your missions and I'll ensure that you are partnered with an experienced agent who will train you in the beginning. If you work well together, they could potentially become your handler and liaison with the organization. Section 31 can also use its influence to get you free travel rights throughout the Federation and surrounding space, licenses for your ship that will allow you to have much more technology and advanced weaponry than a civilian would normally be allowed. You purchased two replicators for your ship recently, we can give you access to restricted replicator patterns civilians normally can't their hands on, as well as any training programs you'd like to try and the use of a private holodeck to access those programs."

I had to admit, the guys running Section 31 were very clever. They knew exactly what to offer to entice me, including structuring my recruitment deal to allow maximum freedom of choice. It was actually pretty generous overall.

"Okay, I'm in," I said after a suitable amount of time spent in thought, "but if I see Natalie again, I am going to shoot her. And while I would probably look damn good in this all-black leather look you're rocking, I'm not sure it's my style."

Sloan didn't visibly react to my joking. He just moved on to the next topic. I couldn't tell if his profile of me was so good that it anticipated me being angry with Natalie and making snarky jokes, or if Sloan just had that amazing of a poker face.

"We're happy you agreed to work with our organization. Either myself, or one of our agents will be in touch when we have a mission that fits your skill set and abilities," the spy told me.

And that was it. No goodbye or anything. One second he was there, the next, a transporter beam grabbed him and he was gone. I was left wondering what to do next, only I didn't have to think about it for long as a transporter beam caught me too and I found myself being transported somewhere else.

**XXXXX**

**Cafe. Risa.**

The day after accepting the offer to become a free-lance operative for Section 31 I found myself sitting at a table outside of a little street side café, along with Commander Riker of all people, who was taking his shore leave on this planet along with most of the _Enterprise_ crew. Apparently, while the _Enterprise_ had not had to fight the Borg, they'd still managed to get themselves into some kind of serious trouble. The Captain had ordered the _Enterprise_ to come to Risa for some much-needed R&R for the crew once the crisis was resolved.

Will Riker was a decent man, with a strict sense of duty, a love of adventure and a good sense of humor. He was also a mean poker player and ladies' man, so I imagined he could have a lot of fun on this planet with its many first-class gambling establishments and over-the-top hedonism. Unlike many other Starfleet officers, I felt like he had the right attitude when it came to this unique planet and culture.

"There's Deanna now," he said, gesturing in a direction out of my view, a large smile on his face. A look of surprise followed a moment later. "Oh, it looks like she's picked up a new friend on the way."

I turned and looked over my shoulder to see two women who were walking towards us while carrying bags, chatting and laughing as they walked. When they looked at me, _in particular_ , they giggled. Oh Lord…had Deanna been talking about me? I know she was good friends with Beverly, who may have shared details on our sexual relationship. It could be Lwaxana too. Knowing her, she probably hadn't held back _any_ details on our time together either, daughter or not. In fact, she probably crowed to all who would listen how she had banged an Augment and encouraged Deanna to give me a try too. _The woman was a shameless sex panther_.

The woman with Deanna looked very familiar to me, in fact after a few moments of thought, I was pretty sure that this was Jadzia Dax, the character from the show Deep Space Nine. The memory of what she looked like was made in my previous life, so it wasn't the perfect eidetic memory of my current genetically engineered brain, but I was almost sure it was her. The shows I had watched, from what felt like a lifetime ago, had been played by actors and actresses that didn't have the benefit of actual 24th century medical care to look years, if not decades, younger than they should by my 20th/21st century expectations.

"You know her?" Riker asked.

Despite the aviator style sunglasses, I was wearing, a design I'd copied and replicated from a junk mail catalog from a local department store that had been in my apartment when I had been 'dimensionally translocated,' the commander had been able to see me react to Jadzia Dax's presence. I must have smiled and hadn't even realized it. Or the man was just that good at reading people. That was a valuable skill for a command officer.

"No," I lied. "But I hope to!" I said, with hopefully just the right amount of lascivious smile to sell the lie that I was merely reacting to the presence of a beautiful woman that I found attractive, rather than someone I already inexplicably recognized and knew about. And she really was very attractive, looking younger and fitter than even her actress counterpart. Those blue eyes sparkling with humor and sexy playfulness, the luxurious reddish brown long hair, that full figure, and the exotic spots that ran from forehead to the ground denoting she was of the Trill race. She was also looking mighty fine in a skintight one-piece bathing suit.

Riker smirked and I knew he'd accepted my falsehood. The easiest lies were the ones we already wanted to believe, after all.

"This is Will," Deanna Troi offered in introduction, when the ladies had made it to our table. "He's the one with the beard. And this is Gothic, a 'mother-fucker,' to use a term from his time, and an Augment from the 21st Century, just not _our_ 21st Century," Deanna snarked, a mischievous smile playing on her face, like she was daring me to contradict her.

…

…

…

 _'What the fuck?!'_ I thought as my brain had frozen and practically needed a hard reboot. Had she just gone there? Was I gaping like a fish? Thank goodness I hadn't been drinking anything at that moment, because I would have sprayed them all with my drink in a classic spit take. To be fair, she wasn't exactly _wrong_ …technically. The gales of laughter from both Deanna and Riker brought me out of my reverie, though Dax just looked a combination of amused and confused, glancing between me and the other two Starfleet officers, trying to figure out the joke.

I stood up and offered my hand to shake, which she took a moment later.

"Hello, ignore these laughing fools, I'm Gothic, a mother-fucker and Augment, dimensionally displaced in both time and space," I schmoozed, a bright smile on my face. "Just to clarify, though, I'm a mother-fucker only in the sense that I banged Deanna's mom like a drum, _tribal rhythm_ , not in the sense that I'm an asshole or jerk in personality or temperament. Took her mom downtown to pound town, really cleaned out her Sacred Chalice of Rixx, you understand, right? Deanna was just a little salty about it at the time, though I think she's gotten over it."

Deanna Guffawed loudly at my amorous play on the words her mother often repeated when worked up. From the roguish look and sparkle in her eye, I had a feeling she'd be sending a subspace message later to tell her mother about my little joke about her oh so important Chalice.

_Totally worth it._

"Jadzia Dax, call me Jadzia," she introduced herself.

Understandably, my reference to being displaced in both time and space, made the Trill science officer _very_ curious about me. She was a Starfleet geek and I didn't doubt that she'd have a thousand questions for me. Thankfully she held her tongue until there was a more opportune time and she got to me know me a little better.

Deanna sat down at the table next to Riker and ordered a round of tropical drinks for all of us. Then she told us all about the gift shop she'd just been to, and she followed that up by showing us the presents she had bought for various people back on the ship. This took a very long time. There were some things that transcended both time and dimension.

"So, Gothic, what have you been up to since you left the _Enterprise_?" Riker asked once the Betazoid woman let someone else talk. If she wasn't so damn hot…

Wisely, I decided not to mention Section 31. Despite Sloan saying no one would believe me, I had no desire to risk it.

"Well, I got a job at the University of San Francisco," I informed the group. "They have me sorting books from the 20th century. Which is easy as I used to work in a library before I ended up in stasis and found myself in this new time and dimension. My boss was rather impressed, and boy did she work me over," I joked, wondering for the hundredth time what Annika was up to. "In my downtime I also took and completed several Starfleet Academy learning programs I had access to in order to acclimate to this time and gain some valuable skills. Then a starship was delivered to me and I decided to visit Risa on its maiden voyage. I've been here for a week. You can call me Captain Gothic now," I joked, sending an over-the-top wink at Deanna and Dax. Deanna just rolled her eyes good naturedly.

Riker looked impressed. "I'm familiar with the Academy learning programs. They're just as rigorous as the live Academy classes would have been, oftentimes more comprehensive since it includes everything with none of the limits of a scheduled class with a finite class period, and you can take them to doctorate level in virtually every subject, far beyond even a normal Starfleet officer would need to. That's an admirable use of your time, Gothic."

"Thank you, I like to keep busy," I answered, downplaying my accomplishment a bit. An Augment's arrogance was a stereotype, which I would never be.

"Which ones did you complete and what level did you stop at?" Dax asked, looking curious.

"Well, of course I completed the general education courses that every person raised in the Federation takes. The advanced courses I chose through the Academy learning programs, though, were computer architecture and programming, weapons and tactics, starship operations, starship engineering, and piloting," I listed. "And I completed the full courses."

" _Completed the full courses_?" Riker asked, incredulously. "Almost every one of those subjects has a doctoral level of training. You've been off the _Enterprise_ what, nine or ten months now? Even one of those could take years to complete normally!"

"I'm an Augment, hate the game, not the player, baby!" I joked. Deanna and Dax got a good laugh out of that. "But seriously, since I was made an Augment this stuff has just come easy for me and I no longer wanted to look like the ignorant human from Earth's quote unquote barbaric past. And it was vital to my long-term goal of captaining my own ship, which I have now."

I glanced between all three for a moment, closely observing their expressions at this second instance I'd mentioned my new ship. Under anything approaching normal circumstances, I suspected that _someone_ would ask about the vessel by this point; not many people in the Federation owned their own personal ship, unless they ran a cargo freighter, but _oddly,_ they didn't. Again, it was almost as if the craft had a powerful spell on it that made most people simply ignore its existence, or more specifically not ask questions about it or its origins, even when I mentioned it verbally and drew attention to it. Before I thought maybe it was just the official records that were being ignored, but even drawing attention to it in this personal setting, multiple times even, it didn't even raise an eyebrow. Instead, the follow up question was about my work in the library, rather than the advanced training that would allow me to operate an advanced starship. It was like their thoughts were being subtly directed to a safer topic.

"Are all the books you catalogue at the library the same as in your dimension?" Jadzia asked. "I would have thought that there would be some differences."

"Not as many as you'd think," I answered, "some pretty significant. For example, I've found some books written by famous authors from my world that simply don't exist in my universe. Or other authors who never wrote their masterpiece work, or a work wasn't as popular in this dimension as it was in mine so there were no follow-ups. Sometimes the famous authors from my time never became an author in this dimension or died earlier in life for some reason. Many of them were killed in the various wars in this dimension that never happened in mine, or were never born at all because a parent or grandparent was killed early in life. Interestingly, a lot of the classics are the same. Stephen King seems to be a prolific writer in any reality."

Apparently, that was pretty funny, though I had no idea why.

"The history books are the hardest part," I explained. "It's hard to catalogue books on historical events that _never_ happened in my world. I keep getting the dates mixed up so mostly I focus on the early to mid-20th century works and let my boss handle the end of the century stuff."

The timelines didn't really diverge _significantly_ until the early 1940s, so I was able to handle everything before then easily enough.

"Do you have any dinner plans?" Riker then inquired. "Deanna and I were planning to visit an amazing restaurant we dined at the first time we came to Risa. You two are very welcome to join us."

It became clear to me then that the Starfleet geeks had decided I'd get along well with Jadzia Dax and were setting us up to a degree. Deanna was behind it, I had no doubt, and without even saying anything she'd somehow managed to get Riker to help her. Not that I really minded. Dax was extremely sexy, fun, and very open minded as I knew from the show. Her symbiote gave her the memories and experiences of like 7-8 different lifetimes, which could only result in a very interesting person.

**XXXXX**

**Restaurant. Risa.**

The restaurant turned out to be a transparent dome-shaped building that sat on top of a medium-sized mountain that you could either take a transporter to reach or use the modern equivalent of a sky lift to take the scenic route up the mountainside. The views from inside the restaurant were _spectacular_ , so, unsurprisingly, it was a very popular venue for tourists and tables were difficult to book at the best of times. Riker being the first officer of the Federation's flagship had no trouble getting us in, although I suspected part of it was his ability to charm women, along with his rank and fame, that had gotten us a table. The celebrity rock stars of the 24th century Federation were not who they were back in my time.

I suspected this because the maître D, who was interestingly enough a human female, led us to our table and paid Riker and I what I thought was an undue amount of flirty attention throughout the meal. I'd almost become inured to such a thing while being on Risa, but for the fact that she was a human woman; now that was throwing me off. They were usually, on average, a bit more circumspect in their flirty behavior I'd found. Perhaps she'd gone 'native' living and working on Risa?

She had my attention as well, but not entirely because she was a sexy piece. More because of what she was wearing, which was something that I could only call a liquid metal cocktail dress that was short and flowed wonderfully around every curve and plane of her body, as though it was going to run off like dripping water. The closest analog from my time was as if the woman was wearing a dress made of body paint, whose color changed depending on the lighting. It was skintight everywhere, like everything was emphasized, from the shape and size of her nipples, to the dimples above her ass, to the cleft of her pussy. She looked nude, but wasn't. It fit for Risa.

"So, I take it you approve?" Jadzia asked me, a smile on her face, not at all bothered by my close observation of the woman's spectacular body.

She seemed to find my staring at the maître D to be very amusing.

"I was just trying to figure out what that dress is made out of," I answered. "It's like a sexy, tin foil, chrome, liquid metal…something. I feel like it's a philosophical question, is she nude or is she dressed?"

That was also apparently very amusing for everyone at the table. I spent a while trying to wrap my head around how a liquid could be wrapped around someone's body like foil/latex/body paint that the meal arrived before I eventually gave up. Maybe I should look into the potential tactical uses of such a material?

The meal itself was an experience that I would not soon forget. All the courses were perfectly cooked, the flavors blended and contrasted with each other perfectly. And the company was sublime. I flirted outrageously with Jadzia, and secondarily with Deanna, taking every opportunity to lightly touch Jadzia's hand and shoulders and back. From the way she reciprocated my touch, played with her hair, and thrust out her chest to emphasize her bountiful breasts, my attraction was not one sided.

With Jadzia I spoke about how fascinated I was with the Risian people and culture, and how a two-hundred-year-old Vulcan sociologist had written the definitive work on the subject. We got a kick out of that.

The topics ranged from a comparison of pre-Federation Earth sexual mores and taboos to the modern day, how the Federation had basically forced an age of consent when it came to Risian and alien sexual relations, to the significance of doors purposely left often in my hotel and how people would be encouraged to feel free to watch live sex acts or even be invited to join in. It was fascinating to get her thoughts and opinions on the subject considering she had the memories of so many lifetimes going back to the beginning of the Federation and a great deal of experience with the Risian culture and people from those many lifetimes.

With Deanna, I played with her empathic abilities, trolling her in retaliation for her 'mother-fucker' joke earlier. At random times I shot bursts of intense lust and desire straight at her, by bringing up my eidetic memories of encounters with various women, _including_ her mother, though thankfully Deanna could only sense the emotions, not the people I'd actually made them with. Timing the bursts to correspond with bites of food led Riker to believe Deanna _thoroughly_ enjoyed her meal, like _orgasmically_ so. Her clenching thighs each time I sent a pulse of lust directly at her was delicious. Jadzia seemed to catch on by the end of the meal, sending me a wink and a sly grin right at Deanna. The food was good, but it wasn't _that_ good.

At one point I'd even caught Deanna's foot trying to give me a kick under the table after the 10th or so burst of lust and desire, once she'd realized I was doing it on purpose. Oh, the dirty look I'd gotten! Without even looking I'd caught her foot, pulled it into my lap, and gently pulled off her shoe to begin giving her a sensual foot massage, paying close attention to the ball and arch. Thankfully the white tablecloth hid what I was doing from the rest of the table. She could have pulled back at any point, but she let me go to town on her foot, even switching to the other after 10 minutes, daintily placing it in my lap. Part of my combat training had involved memorizing the nerve clusters and pressure points of various humanoid races. That had been for the purpose of causing debilitating injury or pain, but with a tweak in purpose and intensity, I found it could easily be used for pleasure instead.

We ended up finishing the meal with some kind of extremely delicate chocolate puff dessert from some alien world I'd never heard of, one that Deanna had recommended. It wasn't like Earth chocolate, I found out, it was more like ice cream in taste, only with the texture of a rich cake. It was odd, but very nice.

A string quartet had been playing background music the entire time we had been eating. Of course, it was classical music, the only thing strange about it was that the musicians weren't human. They played amazingly well, but were obviously catering to the many humans in the restaurant.

Once the dessert was finished the maître D announced, to my _horror_ , that guests could now take to the dance floor if they so wished. I was dragged onto the dance floor by Jadzia Dax and found that being an Augment had made it quite easy to learn how to dance very quickly. I'd been in this universe for over a year now and dancing had never come up. Of course, advanced martial arts had many footwork aspects that were strikingly similar, so I think I acquitted myself well, once I memorized the specific moves involved. The fact that it let me pull her close to my hard, muscular body, while showcasing my skills, made it even better. She even beat me to the punch when her hands started wandering on me. What an aggressive woman! Turnabout was fair play, so my hands wandered and I placed soft kisses to her neck, right on her pulse point.

Being an Augment really rocked sometimes!

**XXXXX**

**Hotel. Risa.**

"I know men tend to fall asleep after sex," I joked, but actually feeling quite embarrassed, as Jadzia and I ate a lovely breakfast on the patio of her hotel, "but I've never _passed out_ _during_ sex!"

Fainting upon orgasm was not something I'd ever expected to happen, especially not now that I was an Augment. Thankfully, Jadzia didn't seem to mind that I'd passed out. If anything, she had seemingly expected it, finding it rather amusing, maybe even endearing, which was quite often her reaction to things that I found confusing. I'd take endearing any day, I suppose.

" _Jamaharon_ with Arandis was the cause of death for Curzon Dax," she explained with a fond and slightly sad smile. "And you didn't faint the first three times; that's an amazing feat for someone who has never experienced it before. Arandis and I were _very_ impressed with you."

Arandis, who had joined Jadzia and I in bed at her request ( _and my glee_ ), could apparently _fuck_ men to death. Not a bad way to go, though, not at all, and I'd survived it while also pleasuring the Trill woman with a good bit of success I thought. Apparently, a normal human male would still be asleep after a night like mine and would never have lasted that long in the first place. If they had they'd almost certainly need the attention of a doctor…or a morgue, as Curzon had found out. Somehow, I think the man would have been just fine with that kind of end.

Despite her complimentary words, I was a bit in shock at this turn of events. I had fucked a good number of women in this dimension and every time I was the only fighter left standing at the end, still raring to go even after my bed partners had passed out from pleasure or fatigue. Even Guinan, a sexual monster in her own right, and Lwaxana, a sexual predator if there ever was one, had tapped out after a certain point, and that was when I was still new to this body!

Jamaharon had never been explained in the shows, but as I had learned, it was more than mere sex, in fact there was nothing like it on Earth in my time. At least as far as I knew, I hadn't exactly been a sexual connoisseur in my old life or aware of such things beyond the norm. I did know there were tantric sex rites that I had never partaken in back in my old life, for instance. Maybe there were similarities?

According to Dax, it took many years of study, practice, and natural talent for a Risian woman (the men were incapable of initiating it for some reason) to perfect performing the sexual rite and Arandis was a high-level practitioner/priestess essentially. It wasn't purely about pleasure either, it was a sacred ritual for the locals and an important part of their culture. Whether there was some kind of true mysticism involved involving calling on higher powers, some kind of telepathic or empathic feedback loop, or some sort of synching of bioenergy or biorhythms, I had no freaking idea. What I did know was that it had been _intense as hell_ , even beyond the obvious of banging two very sexual women at the same time.

"So how long are you on Risa?" I asked Jadzia.

I was in no rush to get back to Earth, so if she was going to be here for a while I'd stick around too.

"Not long," she replied. "Actually, I'm leaving this afternoon to report to the _Enterprise_."

Well, that was disappointing.

"I've been transferred to the _Enterprise_ in a crew replacement, that's how I met Riker and Troi," she explained. "I doubt I'll see Risa or even Trill again over the next six months while I settle onboard the ship."

Transferred to the _Enterprise_? It appears that this was yet another one of those differences between the shows I'd watched and the reality of this dimension, or I had caused it somehow with one my actions or changes, since I don't remember ever hearing about how she'd been stationed on the _Enterprise_ at some point. I'm almost certain of that, otherwise she'd have already met Chief O'Brien on the _Enterprise_ when he'd been that ship's transporter chief.

Despite this news I was not thinking of leaving. I'd only been here a week and already so many interesting things had happened. I suspected that if I stayed even for a few more days I'd either end up with my own harem or I'd single handedly drive off an invasion of horny Klingon women.

"Well, I guess I'll have to find someone else to Jamaharon with," I said, with a sad smile, always knowing how this would end.

Really, I was spoilt for choice, all I had to do was put out a Horga'hn, hit the beach and then let the ladies just come to me to practice their sacred sexual rites, though it was unlikely I'd find another high-level practitioner like Arandis without specifically looking for one. Since I had banged two beautiful women last night, simultaneously, I was curious to see if I could handle three this time.

If I died during it, well, I'd consider this a life well lived, I thought, chuckling internally at how silly I was being.

"I haven't left yet," replied Jadzia with a wicked smile on her face, while standing and undoing her robe, revealing how naked she was under it. Those spots really went all the way down to the floor. "There's still plenty of time to see if I can perform true Jamaharon without any help."

With a wicked smile on my face, I picked her up by that cracking ass and carried her to the bedroom, her squeals of laughter were music to my ears.

XXXXX

**Amandari Resort. Risa.**

Looking out the window of the hovercar that was bringing me back to my hotel, the driver flying at a pretty low altitude to give me the best views possible, I smiled at the beautiful sights of Risa. It really was such a beautiful planet; the shows really didn't do it justice. Of course, the smile currently on my face was only partly because of the view, no matter how spectacular it was. I had just gotten done banging Jadzia Dax of Deep Space Nine to within an inch of her life. It seemed that without Arandis around to work her sex magic mojo on me, my Augment physiology was more than enough to wear her out and have her call it quits.

Take that you witchy, sexy woman!

I felt like patting myself on the proverbial back, and you would too when you realized that she had the collective memories of seven fucking lifetimes to draw upon, from both a male and female perspective. That was a whole lot of sexual experience to overcome and I had acquitted myself well. I had a feeling that if our paths crossed again in the future that I'd be invited back into her bed for a repeat performance. I was just fine with that.

"We're approaching your hotel, sir," the beautiful Risian woman informed me before we quickly descended to a landing pad safely set away from anybody else. Seriously, I was starting to wonder if the Risians did some genetic engineering on the sly because I had not yet met a Risian woman that wasn't smoking hot.

"Thank you for taking the scenic route. Your world is almost as beautiful as its women, but only _almost_ ," I flirted, giving the woman a wink and a smile.

She giggled, before blowing me a kiss. Once we touched down, I touched my hand to the display panel for the hovercar's onboard computer to recognize my DNA identity profile and gave her a nice tip. A trip like this didn't actually cost anything normally, it would just be deducted from the transportation vouchers all Federation citizens were given as a matter of course, a certain amount per month, but an extra tip was an option.

Getting out of the car, I let the warm sea breeze tickle my skin, taking a deep breath and practically tasting the scent of tropical flowers and sweet fruits on the wind. After leaving Jadzia's hotel room, I hadn't even bothered putting on a shirt so I was currently just in my shorts and flip flops. Not a single person gave me a look of recrimination, in fact, it could be argued I was almost overdressed given how little everyone typically wore. Plus, it was a joy for me and rather liberating. I had always been average looking, now, though, I had nothing to be ashamed of.

Walking back into the hotel I went up in the turbolift to my floor. It was mid-afternoon and I was starving, so my plan was to hit the replicator hard in my room and then hit the beach, maybe ordering some finger foods, tropical drinks, and blowjobs from the roving serving staff. Several days on planet and I'd still not had a chance to order the famous Risian mai-tai, which was an orange-colored drink garnished with two fruits. That had appeared on an episode of Star Trek: Enterprise and I was dying to try it for myself. Maybe I'd even run into that young serving girl again, the one who had given me such a delightful blowjob when I had been trying to throw Natalie off her game.

As soon as the turbolift doors opened, though, I was greeted with a veritable cacophony of moans and grunts and the wet clapping of flesh on flesh in exertion and pleasure. Of course, it really wasn't _that_ loud, my Augment hearing was so sensitive, though, that even quiet sounds could seem quite loud to me.

My hotel 'neighbors' were feeling quite frisky today it seemed, because several doors were open. Passing one after the other, I shamelessly looked in, finding first a mixed orgy, then a single man and woman, then an orgy with humanoids and non-humanoids that I hurried past with an internal cry of 'NOPE!' echoing in my head. I wasn't one to kink-shame anyone, but nope, just nope.

There was only one open door left before I reached my room, the one directly next to my suite actually, containing two women. Tempting, but I was hungry and had been having a lot of sex lately.

Putting my hand on the door panel to recognize me, the door split open to admit me, before I stopped and listened to some intriguing dirty talk coming from next door.

"Lick your mistress' cunt, you Starfleet _slut_! You Starfleet officers are all the same, sluts who can't eat pussy worth a damn, if you ever want to come tonight, slave, you better work harder!"

Well now, what do we have here? From the sound of things, we had another high-ranking Starfleet officer who wanted to switch off her mind for a little while, to give up her authority temporarily and to instead give her submission to a dominant. Beverly Crusher on the _Enterprise_ had been the exact same way, wanting to set aside the demanding role of Chief Medical Officer on the flagship and just be an unthinking slut for her man for a little while.

Stepping out of my doorway to let the doors close, I stepped out into the hallway and walked to the nearest door. Stepping in a bit and leaning against the open doorframe, I crossed my arms over my chest, flexing my muscles for maximum visual impact, and looked in to find two beautiful and naked women.

A beautiful black haired Risian woman was sitting against the mirrored headboard to a large bed, her legs splayed wide, as another nude woman was between her legs, eating the dom-Risian's cunt like her life depended on it. The sounds were indecent and wonderful as the dom ground the Starfleet woman's face between her thighs with an almost wicked glee. I'd almost feel bad for the sub if I couldn't tell she was getting off on it.

I couldn't tell what species the nude Starfleet woman was, but she looked human enough from back here, with white skin and reddish-brown hair loose and reaching the top of her shoulders. The Risian dom saw me straightaway and gave me a large smile and wink in greeting, inviting me into the room, which I silently accepted.

The angle I was viewing this was delightful as the Starfleet woman was on her knees, head buried between her dom's thighs, her large and tight ass facing the doorway and me. A beautiful, wet pussy shown through those muscular thighs, practically calling to me, but being invited in was not exactly an invitation to fuck.

" _Slut_ , we have a visitor, a handsome human man. He is tall and strong; his muscles look so delicious and his cock looks so big in his tight swimsuit. You are making him hard! He's looking right up your slutty cunt right now; he can see everything! Spread your legs a little more so he can see how wet your slutty pussy is."

Her sub moaned in an interesting mix of shame, excitement, and humiliated pleasure, but she obeyed her dom and spread her thighs a little wider for me, like a good little slut. I was getting into this. Every Risian man or woman had their likes and dislikes, just like anyone else, but they were also sexual chameleons to a great degree, willing to give whatever would make their partner happy. This Risian woman might not even be naturally dominant, but they'd play the part for their partner.

"Do you want him to touch you, slut? Of course, you do, you're a _slut_ who is shamelessly showing her slutty wet pussy to a man she can't even see because you're eating _my_ pussy," the dom teased her sub, a moan coming from the sub who obviously liked being talked to this way.

"Would you like to touch her, stranger? To feel her body, to squeeze her big tits, to lick that delicious wet pussy?"

"I would be honored to," I replied honestly.

"Then do it, use this slut how you want. Take pleasure from her."

With that permission, I pulled my shorts off, and crawled onto the bed and in between her spread thighs.

"He has a huge cock, whore! Perhaps he is too much man for your slutty pussy, perhaps your mistress deserves it more than you do," she mocked. Her sub made cute sounds of distress and was shaking her head a little, but it was locked firmly between the thighs of her dom mistress.

I ran my hands over her sweaty back, feeling the muscles underneath, massaging her with my strong fingers. I reached down and under her to grasp the tits that I couldn't see before. They were a good handful and felt delightful in my hands, so I tweaked the nipples, to her delight. I got down low after a minute of playing with her tits and licked her from clit to ass before upping my game and making her squeal in pleasure. An Augment's tongue was a weapon of pleasure and I had had a lot of experience since arriving in this dimension wrecking women with it. This Starfleet cunt, whom I still hadn't seen the face of, was obviously unused to such skill as she came three times over the course of 15 minutes, the sub's dom holding her firmly face down in her cunt, refusing to let her up to see me. The dom probably instinctively recognized that my remaining faceless in her sub's eyes would increase the humiliating and demeaning pleasure of it all. The dom looked impressed at my performance, giving me a smile that signaled she wouldn't mind a bit of the same.

My face was very wet with the sub's juices when I stopped, before I stood on my knees and positioned my cock, rubbing the large head up and down her slit, coating it with her juices, but never pushing in more than a few centimeters.

"Slut, this man gave you so much pleasure, shouldn't you return the favor? Do you think your slutty cunt could handle such a beast of a cock? Should he fuck your little slutty cunt?"

I continued rubbing and teasing my cock against her entrance while the dom continued dirty talking her sub.

"Do you want me fuck you, slut? I want to fuck you, to wreck your wet pussy with my cock, so you better give me a sign that you want it, that you consent to me fucking you, or I'm going to fuck your mistress instead," I warned in a deep voice, while continuing to grind and hot dog my cock in her cunt lips.

She wiggled her ass side to side in obvious invitation, but I needed more.

"I need more than that, slut, show me you want me or you're not getting this cock."

This time the slut bent her ass down and tried to get the angle just right, pushing back at the same time so that I could penetrate her, but I wouldn't let her. She finally grew frustrated and reached back, between her open legs and softly gripped my cock before putting it right at her entrance. If that wasn't an invitation and consent, I didn't know what was, so I pushed in hard and fast. This slut was so wet from my earlier ministrations that she took every inch easily.

The one thing I had forgotten in my excitement was that I was quite a bit bigger in the dong department than I had been in my old life and no matter how excited you were, 10 inches of thick cock was going to be a bit shocking.

In half a second flat I was balls deep inside her wet furnace and she practically howled with pleasure, her head, for the first time, shooting up and out from between the thighs of her dom and I finally saw the face of the woman I had tongue fucked to multiple orgasms and was now balls deep inside of.

Time stopped.

The universe, or my patron, was seriously fucking with me _because I was balls deep in Katherine motherfucking Janeway_ , future captain of the Federation starship _Voyager_.

This version, like everyone else I'd once seen in a Star Trek show, was younger looking and even hotter.

The mind of an Augment was a biological super computer, so imagine my mind getting a blue screen of death for several long seconds. What were the fucking chances? The Federation spanned over a hundred member worlds. Starfleet was a huge organization with a huge number of officers and ships and installations spread across the entire alpha quadrant. The chances of me encountering an officer I knew was infinitesimal. Yet, here I was.

Wasn't she engaged to a dude named Mark in the shows? Were they not dating yet? Were they on a break? Were they in a 'what happens on Risa stays on Risa' kind of relationship? Or were they open? All these thoughts and many more played in my head once my brain had rebooted, my treacherous cock running on autopilot because it hadn't stopped fucking Janeway for more than a second or two.

 _Fuck it._ If we're going to do this, let's do it right, I thought, getting very excited now. I was fucking another canon Star Trek girl!

The pleasure caught up to me soon after, because I was pounding that ass like it owed me money, varying my depth and angle and strength, locking into memory every twitch and reaction to gauge what was working and what was not.

Several minutes went by like this, before I threaded my fingers in Janeway's reddish brown locks and pulled her against my chest, my cock continuing to pound into her cunt, while my left hand went between her thighs to play with her clit. My right hand left her hair and went around her slim throat and squeezed, applying just enough pressure to her carotid to induce a mild asphyxia that made the pleasure even more intense.

"Are you ready to come, slut? You better not come until I tell you."

"Yes! Please, sir, please let me come! I'll do anything, just please let me come around your big fat cock. Please, please, please!"

"Good answer, now get ready to come, slut… Come now!" I ordered, her cunt squeezing me deliciously while I filled her cunt with a large volume of my cum.

A minute later, I unceremoniously let her go, letting her fall to the bed on her stomach, almost insensate. Her Risian dom was still with it as she had been playing with her own cunt throughout me fucking Janeway. She maneuvered herself on her hands and knees, presenting her cunt to me, while spreading Janeway's ass cheeks and diving in to lap up what I had left behind in her cunt. Her shaking hips told me what she wanted and I was happy to give it to her, my manhood ready for more.

With that, the night truly started, and hours of incredible debauchery followed.

Risa really was an amazing planet.

**Author's Note:**

**Damn, that Janeway scene was hard to write! I put it off for weeks while I decided whether or not to include it, worried that it might be too unbelievable. I put it up for vote and my Patrons voted overwhelmingly, 16 to 5, to include it. So, if you liked it, you can thank the Patrons of this story, if not, well, become a Patron and vote the other way! :-)**

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**Chapter 11: 20,516 words**

**Chapter 12: 15,913 words**


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